Several days ago, I had a dream which really can only be described as some sort of "Twilight Zone"-themed nightmare. It was also a wake-up call...literally.
I wake up alone in my bedroom. My back hurts and I have a horrible headache. I feel awful, but I have to go to work so I attempt to haul myself from the bed. When I sit up, it is extremely difficult for some reason; I can't seem to make my body move the way it should. "What is wrong with me?" I think, groaning under the strain of simply moving. But I do find success and when I stand up, I look across the room to the big mirror on the back of my dresser - it faces my bed. Stunned at my reflection, a muffled gasp escapes from my throat. My face. I notice my face first. It is round, full and terrifying in its familiarity. My eyes sweep downward from there and I realize that this is my pre-op body, myself at my worst, highest weight. Around 500 pounds. This is why I am in pain. This is why I can't move.
Hold on.
Didn't I lose weight? Didn't I work so hard to prevent this feeling from ever coming back to me? What happened? Did I blow it? Did I gain everything back and then some while in some sort of pizza-and-Timbit-induced coma so that I don't remember gaining it??
Am I losing my mind or what?
Where's Erich??
Wait....
Where is me?? Myself?? The woman I worked so hard to find underneath? This is not me. What the hell happened?
Then I realize that success was a dream. I dreamed that I lost weight. I dreamed that I could run, ride rollercoasters and sit on my husband's lap. I simply dreamed those new skinny jeans, the tall boots and concert t-shirts. It never happened and this is me. I look in the mirror again...reality.
Success was a dream.
I start to cry. No, wail. I am wailing in agony. How could I have such a cruel dream? To have something like that and it be taken away in such an awful, terrible, crushing slap in the face? I collapse back onto the bed with a huge thud, my body feeling like a ton of lead. I am not used to this. I am used to feeling lighter. I thought I wasn't, but I am. How could I get used to something like that if it were only a dream?
About that time, my eyes fly open in a panic and I awake for real. Or is it for real? I am afraid to move for a second, afraid of reality. I look over at my "shoe shelf" and see my tall, black boots. Ok. I take a 10-second stock of my surroundings, my brain...Erich is sleeping beside me. Good sign. I sit up easily and look over in the dresser mirror. I know my face. Taking a deep breath, I get out of bed and blink, again looking around.
I did lose the weight. It wasn't a dream and I am ok.
I think this was a Fat Flashback of the worst kind. Worst because our subconscious mind can make things so real it is sometimes truly horrifying. And it was also a reminder to not fall back into old habits because that's what gaining it all back feels like. Or at least, that's what it would feel like for me.
I said in my last blog that my goal was to lose weight this holiday season, not gain it. Somehow, I achieved that - I lost five pounds. Better than gaining!! I have more work to do and honestly, I believe that dream was someone poking me on the shoulder telling me to not lose sight of the original dream that I worked so hard to bring into fruition: a new life, a new normal. It's here and all I have to do is keep the ball rolling.
Three resolutions in the new year: More gym time - it's fallen by the wayside in the past couple of months. There's no maintenance without movement.
Find some way to back up the hard drive in a more permanent way. I'm checking out online services such as Mozy and I intend to get finally suck it up and buy an external hard drive. Double back up. I'd seriously DIE if my HD crashed. A lot of stuff is backed up, but a lot isn't. Time to do something before the worst occurs and I end up in a fetal position, babbling "But I was going to..." over and over.
I need to pay more attention to this blog. I'm getting lazy in more ways than one. And I absolutely know that when I attend to this blog, I also attend to myself in a more meaningful way.
If I don't get to a new blog before the new year, you all have a great and safe celebration. Keep in mind you don't need a new year to start over, though it's as good a time as any. Just put one foot in front of the other. Peace!
Friday, December 30, 2011
Saturday, December 3, 2011
The whining women
When you're a fat chick, the last thing you want to hear is women thinner than you bitching about their weight. It feels insulting and it pisses said fat chicks off. I know, because I was one of those fat chicks all my life. Well....I still AM a fat chick, but I digress. Few things ticked me off more than a size-four woman whining about how she reeeeeeally needed to lose 10 pounds.
Notice I refer to fat CHICKS, because honestly, I don't know a single man who complains that his life would be complete if he could just shave off the last, stubborn 10 pounds. Not a single one. I think it tends to be a woman thing. We never think we're good enough, do we?
I have lost 250 pounds. I am healthy, happy (most of the time) and look better than I've looked since I was 18 years old (well, in most ways). See how I qualify everything? I truly believe the qualifiers, too. It never ends. No matter how you look or what you accomplish it's usually not enough. Why do we constantly seek perfection instead of taking a step back and recognizing what we've already done well?
The bad news is I can see myself turning into one of the whining women. The really bad news is that I truly do need to lose 10 pounds, but anyway....my point is that the way that thought is always in my brain makes me crazy. I hate it from the point of view that I'm turning into what I have never liked. Is it vanity? Probably not in my case. The elephant in the room is that for food addicts like me, 10 pounds easily turns into 20 - then 30 and so on. So getting a grip on things is very important.
I've spent a lot of time writing about how I wanted to be "normal". I did come to realize, eventually, that I am not and never will be "normal" in my relationship with food. I can't be casual with my diet and exercise - it's something I will have to be super conscious about my whole life. And it SUCKS.
The one thing that is "normal" and shouldn't be is this constant self-criticism. Every day I strive for some sort of happy medium between knowing I need to watch what I eat and trying not to be neurotic about it. Because I can see the neurosis is leading me to some slight depression and in turn, to bad choices....which is what I'm trying to avoid in the first place. There's no need to be perfect. Vigilant yes. The perfect, happy, shining face of gastric-bypass success? No.
With the holidays coming, we all walk a slippery slope. I think most people gain a couple pounds over the holidays and it's difficult to get back into healthy habits after the new year. But again, for food addicts like me, it's doubly difficult. Imagine a smoker who has quit, takes it up again for a month then must cut back to having only one cigarette a week. And they must be happy with that much nicotine and no more. That's a good comparison. This year I'm already behind the 8-ball in that I need to take off a few pounds as the chow-fest that is December begins. So, vigilance is the name of the game. I am not normal. But I'm also not perfect. The key is forgiveness and moving on, right? Right.
My intention is to LOSE weight this month, not gain. Wish me luck! This constant fight is not easy but the results are worth it. There is no going back to the old me.
Notice I refer to fat CHICKS, because honestly, I don't know a single man who complains that his life would be complete if he could just shave off the last, stubborn 10 pounds. Not a single one. I think it tends to be a woman thing. We never think we're good enough, do we?
I have lost 250 pounds. I am healthy, happy (most of the time) and look better than I've looked since I was 18 years old (well, in most ways). See how I qualify everything? I truly believe the qualifiers, too. It never ends. No matter how you look or what you accomplish it's usually not enough. Why do we constantly seek perfection instead of taking a step back and recognizing what we've already done well?
The bad news is I can see myself turning into one of the whining women. The really bad news is that I truly do need to lose 10 pounds, but anyway....my point is that the way that thought is always in my brain makes me crazy. I hate it from the point of view that I'm turning into what I have never liked. Is it vanity? Probably not in my case. The elephant in the room is that for food addicts like me, 10 pounds easily turns into 20 - then 30 and so on. So getting a grip on things is very important.
I've spent a lot of time writing about how I wanted to be "normal". I did come to realize, eventually, that I am not and never will be "normal" in my relationship with food. I can't be casual with my diet and exercise - it's something I will have to be super conscious about my whole life. And it SUCKS.
The one thing that is "normal" and shouldn't be is this constant self-criticism. Every day I strive for some sort of happy medium between knowing I need to watch what I eat and trying not to be neurotic about it. Because I can see the neurosis is leading me to some slight depression and in turn, to bad choices....which is what I'm trying to avoid in the first place. There's no need to be perfect. Vigilant yes. The perfect, happy, shining face of gastric-bypass success? No.
With the holidays coming, we all walk a slippery slope. I think most people gain a couple pounds over the holidays and it's difficult to get back into healthy habits after the new year. But again, for food addicts like me, it's doubly difficult. Imagine a smoker who has quit, takes it up again for a month then must cut back to having only one cigarette a week. And they must be happy with that much nicotine and no more. That's a good comparison. This year I'm already behind the 8-ball in that I need to take off a few pounds as the chow-fest that is December begins. So, vigilance is the name of the game. I am not normal. But I'm also not perfect. The key is forgiveness and moving on, right? Right.
My intention is to LOSE weight this month, not gain. Wish me luck! This constant fight is not easy but the results are worth it. There is no going back to the old me.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Fat Flashbacks
I'm pretty sure everyone has heard of acid flashbacks. Well, I'm here to tell you I have FAT Flashbacks. The best thing I can compare it to is post traumatic stress disorder - almost like I've been through a war and sometimes a certain thing will trigger a memory where I'm right back in the trenches, feeling and experiencing everything I was going through before I lost weight.
I've made no secret of my love for the show "The Biggest Loser". I started watching it when I was losing weight for my surgery. It helped me tremendously to see real people who were nearly my size (there have only been a couple contestants on the show who were as big as I was) exercising and doing things unimaginable to me. It made me think I could do it, too. I still watch faithfully. This season, one contestant on the show is particularly tugging at my heart.
Musician Vinny Hickerson arrived on the ranch weighing in at 426 pounds. Now there's some backstory with Vinny. Erich and I saw him and his band Trailer Choir perform at the 2010 CMA Fest and were so impressed, their new CD became part of the soundtrack in our home and cars. Yes, even Erich - the country music hater who let it be known he would NOT have a good time there but in the end loved it - really got into their sound. We were also blown away by Vinny's stage performance. Here was a 400-pound guy in bibs doing the worm on stage in 95-degree heat. Vinny can MOVE! I remember watching him and being envious of his agility. I certainly couldn't move like that when I weighed that much!
Last week, trainer Bob Harper was pushing Vinny beyond anything he's done so far on the ranch. Vinny was on the treadmill and Bob kept raising the incline. Eventually, he got to 10. A 10 incline is tough when you're just strolling, but Vinny was RUNNING. Vinny's done very well on the show, but as young as he is (27) and at his weight...and being a man....one would expect bigger numbers from him and his male team members each week. Now I'm not sure exactly what their problem is (I do have an idea and plan a blog on that later) but Bob's team has kicked ass each week. So when Bob finally got a hold of Vinny, I was soooo happy.
"It's time for you to pull double digits every week," Bob told Vinny.
"Yes, sir" was the Southern-boy reply.
Meanwhile, a tape is running of an interview with Vinny taken after all this was going on. He says, "I weigh 372 pounds. You're not supposed to be able to do a 10 at 372 pounds."
I kept watching this and was suddenly overcome with emotion. I weighed 372 pounds on July 7, 2009 - the date of my gastric bypass. Watching Vinny running on that treadmill did something to me. It took me back in time and made me empathize with what he was feeling. How hard that must've been for him and how satisfying it must've been to accomplish it. The look of effort on his face made me weep for him, for me, for everyone in that position. I remembered how hard it was for me to run around my cul-de-sac the first time. I did it because I saw another contestant on this show do it - so I knew I had the power as well.
I cried. I paced. Wrung my hands. My breathing increased and I was worried about a panic attack for a moment. My cats looked at me like I was insane. Deep breathing...
"You are not 372 pounds anymore. Never going back. Never going back. It's ok. That's not you anymore." These are the things I whispered to myself and eventually I calmed down.
Fat Flashback. I don't know if others go through this, but I've had a few of these kinds of episodes. I assume it's my brain's way of dealing with change and fear. Even though it's been a year now in this new body, my head hasn't completely caught up with it all yet. Actually, I don't know if it ever will.
Plus, everyone who has ever lost a great deal of weight fears going back. Regain is the nightmare monster chasing us 24/7. I think when I remember being that way, the fear comes to me that the boogeyman is there. Again, my brain has to somehow deal with this shit, right? It is what it is.
I've made no secret of my love for the show "The Biggest Loser". I started watching it when I was losing weight for my surgery. It helped me tremendously to see real people who were nearly my size (there have only been a couple contestants on the show who were as big as I was) exercising and doing things unimaginable to me. It made me think I could do it, too. I still watch faithfully. This season, one contestant on the show is particularly tugging at my heart.
Musician Vinny Hickerson arrived on the ranch weighing in at 426 pounds. Now there's some backstory with Vinny. Erich and I saw him and his band Trailer Choir perform at the 2010 CMA Fest and were so impressed, their new CD became part of the soundtrack in our home and cars. Yes, even Erich - the country music hater who let it be known he would NOT have a good time there but in the end loved it - really got into their sound. We were also blown away by Vinny's stage performance. Here was a 400-pound guy in bibs doing the worm on stage in 95-degree heat. Vinny can MOVE! I remember watching him and being envious of his agility. I certainly couldn't move like that when I weighed that much!
Last week, trainer Bob Harper was pushing Vinny beyond anything he's done so far on the ranch. Vinny was on the treadmill and Bob kept raising the incline. Eventually, he got to 10. A 10 incline is tough when you're just strolling, but Vinny was RUNNING. Vinny's done very well on the show, but as young as he is (27) and at his weight...and being a man....one would expect bigger numbers from him and his male team members each week. Now I'm not sure exactly what their problem is (I do have an idea and plan a blog on that later) but Bob's team has kicked ass each week. So when Bob finally got a hold of Vinny, I was soooo happy.
"It's time for you to pull double digits every week," Bob told Vinny.
"Yes, sir" was the Southern-boy reply.
Meanwhile, a tape is running of an interview with Vinny taken after all this was going on. He says, "I weigh 372 pounds. You're not supposed to be able to do a 10 at 372 pounds."
I kept watching this and was suddenly overcome with emotion. I weighed 372 pounds on July 7, 2009 - the date of my gastric bypass. Watching Vinny running on that treadmill did something to me. It took me back in time and made me empathize with what he was feeling. How hard that must've been for him and how satisfying it must've been to accomplish it. The look of effort on his face made me weep for him, for me, for everyone in that position. I remembered how hard it was for me to run around my cul-de-sac the first time. I did it because I saw another contestant on this show do it - so I knew I had the power as well.
I cried. I paced. Wrung my hands. My breathing increased and I was worried about a panic attack for a moment. My cats looked at me like I was insane. Deep breathing...
"You are not 372 pounds anymore. Never going back. Never going back. It's ok. That's not you anymore." These are the things I whispered to myself and eventually I calmed down.
Fat Flashback. I don't know if others go through this, but I've had a few of these kinds of episodes. I assume it's my brain's way of dealing with change and fear. Even though it's been a year now in this new body, my head hasn't completely caught up with it all yet. Actually, I don't know if it ever will.
Plus, everyone who has ever lost a great deal of weight fears going back. Regain is the nightmare monster chasing us 24/7. I think when I remember being that way, the fear comes to me that the boogeyman is there. Again, my brain has to somehow deal with this shit, right? It is what it is.
Monday, October 17, 2011
MSNBC calling?
I woke up this morning to an email from what I thought had to be a prankster or a troll. Someone purporting to be health reporter Rita Rubin was asking to talk to me about a story she was writing for msnbc.com about families of gastric bypass patients.
Suuurrreeee, I thought. Tell me another one! I almost didn't write back to her. Well, I'm glad I did because it was no joke and I ended up having a very nice conversation with Ms. Rubin. The premise of her story was that families of gastric bypass patients are found to sometimes lose weight as well. She asked me if that had been my experience.
Erich hasn't lost massive amounts of weight, but his lifestyle changed right along with mine.
Erich has never been extremely overweight. When I married him, he wasn't overweight at all. As I mention in the article, I sort of dragged him down with me into my illness of inactivity and bad eating habits. I feel badly about this a lot. He was active before we met and had hobbies such as camping, swimming, etc. I wrote about our ninth-anniversary camping trip last year and what a wonderful feeling it was to give that back to him, something he loved doing so much but we were unable to share when I was so obese.
Since I've lost weight, we've not only been camping but also canoeing, ziplining, 4-wheeling and horseback riding in the Dominican Republic, and even simple things other people take for granted, like riding roller coasters take on special meaning for us.
The rest of our lives together is just beginning. I can't think of a better partner to take on the journey.
Here's a LINK to Rita's article on msnbc.com.
By the way, the trouble with my IUD that I talked about in my last blog has subsided for now. I spoke to my gynecologist and for now, we're taking a wait-and-see approach. Cross your fingers for me!
Suuurrreeee, I thought. Tell me another one! I almost didn't write back to her. Well, I'm glad I did because it was no joke and I ended up having a very nice conversation with Ms. Rubin. The premise of her story was that families of gastric bypass patients are found to sometimes lose weight as well. She asked me if that had been my experience.
Erich hasn't lost massive amounts of weight, but his lifestyle changed right along with mine.
Erich has never been extremely overweight. When I married him, he wasn't overweight at all. As I mention in the article, I sort of dragged him down with me into my illness of inactivity and bad eating habits. I feel badly about this a lot. He was active before we met and had hobbies such as camping, swimming, etc. I wrote about our ninth-anniversary camping trip last year and what a wonderful feeling it was to give that back to him, something he loved doing so much but we were unable to share when I was so obese.
Since I've lost weight, we've not only been camping but also canoeing, ziplining, 4-wheeling and horseback riding in the Dominican Republic, and even simple things other people take for granted, like riding roller coasters take on special meaning for us.
The rest of our lives together is just beginning. I can't think of a better partner to take on the journey.
Here's a LINK to Rita's article on msnbc.com.
By the way, the trouble with my IUD that I talked about in my last blog has subsided for now. I spoke to my gynecologist and for now, we're taking a wait-and-see approach. Cross your fingers for me!
Monday, October 10, 2011
Ain't nothin' gonna break my stride
This past week has been challenging, health-wise. Again I must issue a disclaimer - female issue ahead!! Just sayin'.
I mentioned my surgery on Sept. 9 for the removal of a uterine cyst and insertion of an IUD, which was supposed to help my psycho-cycle. It's normal to have some breakthrough bleeding/spotting for the first few months after IUD insertion and I have definitely been experiencing that. However, a somewhat disturbing pattern is emerging.
When I exert myself physically, i.e., exercise, the bleeding is heavier. After the 5K last Sunday, the floodgates opened to the point where I ended up in the ER on Tuesday, wondering if there had been a perforation or the device had shifted or WTF was wrong with me.
I called the doc who inserted the IUD on Monday and was given an appointment for the 12th. Now listen to this: I asked his receptionist - who had previously advised me that if I had any questions to call the office - if it was normal to experience heavier bleeding after exercise like this. She said "Well, if you're seeing a pattern of bleeding after exercise then I would say that's normal."
WHAT? No...what? What the hell kind of answer is that? Ridiculous.
At the time, the bleeding was heavy but not too horrible, so I figured I'd give it a day and if it hadn't got better by Tuesday, I would call back and demand to either speak to the doctor or get an appointment that day. Lo and behold, it got worse. Much worse. So I called back on Tuesday and was told the doctor wasn't in and if the bleeding was that bad, I should go to the emergency room. Great.
The situation was such that I couldn't hide it from my co-workers or bosses. I mean, I was in the bathroom most of the day. So late afternoon, I called Erich to tell him what I was doing - I didn't see any point in him taking off work to go with me - and headed to the hospital.
I had visions of being there till the middle of the night, but I guess when I told the ER staff how much blood I was losing, they decided to get me in quickly. So in total I was only there a few hours. Nothing really happened, though. I was examined by a doctor who told me the IUD seemed to be in place. An ultrasound was ordered and I had it, but when I called my doctor - the guy who inserted it, not the ER doctor - for the results, I was told they wouldn't have them till Tuesday.
So the moral of the story is: Suck it up and get over it. I guess. Jesus.
I have an appointment Wednesday morning anyway, so whatever. At this point the bleeding has completely stopped. I have no idea what the hell happened. Several people asked me if it was my period. If it was, it was 10 days early and the heaviest, weirdest (I'll spare you the details) period I've ever had in my life. It scared the crap out of me in part because of how sudden it started, coincidentally right after the 5K and how heavy/weird it was.
I'm now in a situation where I'm a bit hesitant to exercise. If I go to the gym and push myself, will that start up another geyser of the damned? Here's the one thing I know for sure: I must exercise to maintain my weight loss and I won't allow anything to get in the way of that. Ain't nothin' gonna break my stride. So...depending on what the doctor has to say on Wednesday, I may have this thing taken out immediately.
A couple months ago, I wrote a letter to the editor of "O Magazine" and found out today they published it. A friend told me about it on Facebook. I subscribe to the magazine but haven't even had a chance to take it out of the wrapper. I ripped it open right away (LOL) and there I was! Pretty cool. The letter I wrote was in response to an article they did about makeovers for women who had lost 100 pounds or more. Two women who had weight loss surgery were featured. I was moved to express my appreciation for this as it's a rarity to see a WLS patient's success validated in the same way as a non-WLS patient. So go Oprah for that! My letter appears in the current issue (November), if you're interested in reading it.
I mentioned my surgery on Sept. 9 for the removal of a uterine cyst and insertion of an IUD, which was supposed to help my psycho-cycle. It's normal to have some breakthrough bleeding/spotting for the first few months after IUD insertion and I have definitely been experiencing that. However, a somewhat disturbing pattern is emerging.
When I exert myself physically, i.e., exercise, the bleeding is heavier. After the 5K last Sunday, the floodgates opened to the point where I ended up in the ER on Tuesday, wondering if there had been a perforation or the device had shifted or WTF was wrong with me.
I called the doc who inserted the IUD on Monday and was given an appointment for the 12th. Now listen to this: I asked his receptionist - who had previously advised me that if I had any questions to call the office - if it was normal to experience heavier bleeding after exercise like this. She said "Well, if you're seeing a pattern of bleeding after exercise then I would say that's normal."
WHAT? No...what? What the hell kind of answer is that? Ridiculous.
At the time, the bleeding was heavy but not too horrible, so I figured I'd give it a day and if it hadn't got better by Tuesday, I would call back and demand to either speak to the doctor or get an appointment that day. Lo and behold, it got worse. Much worse. So I called back on Tuesday and was told the doctor wasn't in and if the bleeding was that bad, I should go to the emergency room. Great.
The situation was such that I couldn't hide it from my co-workers or bosses. I mean, I was in the bathroom most of the day. So late afternoon, I called Erich to tell him what I was doing - I didn't see any point in him taking off work to go with me - and headed to the hospital.
I had visions of being there till the middle of the night, but I guess when I told the ER staff how much blood I was losing, they decided to get me in quickly. So in total I was only there a few hours. Nothing really happened, though. I was examined by a doctor who told me the IUD seemed to be in place. An ultrasound was ordered and I had it, but when I called my doctor - the guy who inserted it, not the ER doctor - for the results, I was told they wouldn't have them till Tuesday.
So the moral of the story is: Suck it up and get over it. I guess. Jesus.
I have an appointment Wednesday morning anyway, so whatever. At this point the bleeding has completely stopped. I have no idea what the hell happened. Several people asked me if it was my period. If it was, it was 10 days early and the heaviest, weirdest (I'll spare you the details) period I've ever had in my life. It scared the crap out of me in part because of how sudden it started, coincidentally right after the 5K and how heavy/weird it was.
I'm now in a situation where I'm a bit hesitant to exercise. If I go to the gym and push myself, will that start up another geyser of the damned? Here's the one thing I know for sure: I must exercise to maintain my weight loss and I won't allow anything to get in the way of that. Ain't nothin' gonna break my stride. So...depending on what the doctor has to say on Wednesday, I may have this thing taken out immediately.
A couple months ago, I wrote a letter to the editor of "O Magazine" and found out today they published it. A friend told me about it on Facebook. I subscribe to the magazine but haven't even had a chance to take it out of the wrapper. I ripped it open right away (LOL) and there I was! Pretty cool. The letter I wrote was in response to an article they did about makeovers for women who had lost 100 pounds or more. Two women who had weight loss surgery were featured. I was moved to express my appreciation for this as it's a rarity to see a WLS patient's success validated in the same way as a non-WLS patient. So go Oprah for that! My letter appears in the current issue (November), if you're interested in reading it.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
I Run For Life
Last Sunday I participated in the CIBC Run for the Cure, which benefits the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation. My original intention was to run what I could of the 5K and walk the rest. My knees are totally shot due to a lifetime of obesity. And while losing weight has lightened the load and therefore lessened the day-to-day pain I used to endure, it certainly is still present. I can run but not an entire 5K at this point.
Well, on Saturday morning I turned around in my kitchen and nearly hit the floor like a safe. That small movement somehow twisted my right knee and I clutched my kitchen counter for dear life, saving even further injury. I started to take a tentative step and the knee said "Nuh-uh." It scared the crap out of me and OMG....so frustrating!! This happens the day before the run? I thought, "Are you kidding me? Like....are you kidding me?" I wrapped it up and tried icing it but the ice seemed to make it feel worse so I abandoned that plan quickly.
Crazily enough, the pain was worse when I was stationary; if I moved around on it - with the brace on - it didn't bother me too much. So I knew I would still be able to participate in the event but I would have to walk the entire length. I was pretty bummed about that as I was looking forward to pushing my body and seeing just how far/long I could run.
Since I only decided to participate on the previous Tuesday, imagine my shock when - by event day - I had raised a grand total of $640.00 including online and offline donations. My and Erich's co-workers, YOU my beautiful readers, our friends and family really came through and I am so touched and so proud to know all these wonderful people who chose to support both me and such a fantastic cause. My Aunt Betty would be very pleased. I've received a couple more donations since then as well. Donations can be made until October 31, so if you'd still like to give please click HERE.
It was absolutely FRIGID outside on Sunday! About 42F, 6C with a biting wind. Everyone was bundled up as best they could. I registered and signed the 'Wall of Fame' for participants then Erich and I wandered around looking at everyone's get-ups and trying to stay warm! There was a photo booth where everyone could get a free memento of the day and we listened as survivors shared their inspirational stories. I was so into these women's moving words that I forgot to take pics of them. But I got a few shots pre-startup:
I made a button with Aunt Betty's photo on it to wear. I also stuck on a couple buttons they were giving away to participants at the event. And, although you really can't see it because it's so small, I wore my small gold Centurion Club pin, the one I received from Henry Ford Hospital for losing at least 100 pounds. I pinned it up on the collar of my t-shirt.
If you look closely at the photo below on the left, you can see on my t-shirt where it says "Betty - My Aunty" on the left. I tell you, when I saw that it made me cry. Fate, right? Amazing stuff. The shirt also says "Uncle Bob" - who was Aunt Betty's husband. It also says "Cousin Lisa" - Aunt Betty's oldest daughter. She spells her name "Leesa" but wow, right? Crazy.
I was more than ready to get started, if only to get warmer! Poor Erich stood around and waited for me to finish, so by the time I was done, he was pretty much a Romanian popsicle.
Me at the starting line-up:
When we started, I teared up at bit. Me, participating in a 5K. It would've been unthinkable a couple years ago. And my dear Aunt Betty, one of the most wonderful women I've ever known. Her spirit was with me and I could feel her pride. It was moving for me.
I can honestly say I more than held my own in this walk. I was trotting right along like I always do when I exercise, the tunes on my mp3 player helping me keep up the pace. I was passing people all around me during the first leg, when we were walking on pavement. I brought a camera with me to snap a few pics along the route.
There were two routes to take: One was paved, straight and non-hilly and one was on the nature trail surrounding the campgrounds/park where the event took place. When I came to the fork I hesitated a second before choosing the nature trail. My knee was feeling fine so I decided to go for it. It was definitely more challenging, especially downhill. The knee that was not braced cursed me a few times. Plus it was more difficult to pass people on the narrow trail. And a word of advice: LEAVE THE DAMN DOGS AT HOME, PEOPLE. I am not a dog person in the first place but those dogs constantly getting in my way was really pissing me off.
Pics from the trail:
Between the rows of people blocking the narrow trail and the stupid dogs all over the place, I went a little slower than I would've liked. But I still finished in just under an hour, which everyone tells me is pretty good - average, at least. "You were going at a pretty good clip," my boss told me. He and his wife were there as she is a breast cancer survivor. They ran some of the way, he said. He is in super shape and regularly participates in long-distance biking events. He told me they finished about five to seven minutes ahead of me. And I could see there were lots and lots of people behind me.
I once yearned to be average so I should be happy about that, I guess. But next year, I'll kick average's ass.
Me crossing the finish line and afterwards:
We got the hell outta there ASAP in order to thaw my husband out. All in all it was a wonderful experience that I will definitely repeat next year.
Thanks again to everyone who took the time to give their money or words of encouragement to me. I so appreciate it, you have no idea!
The song that inspired the title of this blog:
It took me a week to get this blog out because this has been Hell Week for me. I'm still not sure why any of what happened this week occurred, but that whole thing is another blog in and of itself. I'll churn that out tomorrow since I'm off work for Thanksgiving. See you then.
Well, on Saturday morning I turned around in my kitchen and nearly hit the floor like a safe. That small movement somehow twisted my right knee and I clutched my kitchen counter for dear life, saving even further injury. I started to take a tentative step and the knee said "Nuh-uh." It scared the crap out of me and OMG....so frustrating!! This happens the day before the run? I thought, "Are you kidding me? Like....are you kidding me?" I wrapped it up and tried icing it but the ice seemed to make it feel worse so I abandoned that plan quickly.
Crazily enough, the pain was worse when I was stationary; if I moved around on it - with the brace on - it didn't bother me too much. So I knew I would still be able to participate in the event but I would have to walk the entire length. I was pretty bummed about that as I was looking forward to pushing my body and seeing just how far/long I could run.
Since I only decided to participate on the previous Tuesday, imagine my shock when - by event day - I had raised a grand total of $640.00 including online and offline donations. My and Erich's co-workers, YOU my beautiful readers, our friends and family really came through and I am so touched and so proud to know all these wonderful people who chose to support both me and such a fantastic cause. My Aunt Betty would be very pleased. I've received a couple more donations since then as well. Donations can be made until October 31, so if you'd still like to give please click HERE.
It was absolutely FRIGID outside on Sunday! About 42F, 6C with a biting wind. Everyone was bundled up as best they could. I registered and signed the 'Wall of Fame' for participants then Erich and I wandered around looking at everyone's get-ups and trying to stay warm! There was a photo booth where everyone could get a free memento of the day and we listened as survivors shared their inspirational stories. I was so into these women's moving words that I forgot to take pics of them. But I got a few shots pre-startup:
I made a button with Aunt Betty's photo on it to wear. I also stuck on a couple buttons they were giving away to participants at the event. And, although you really can't see it because it's so small, I wore my small gold Centurion Club pin, the one I received from Henry Ford Hospital for losing at least 100 pounds. I pinned it up on the collar of my t-shirt.
If you look closely at the photo below on the left, you can see on my t-shirt where it says "Betty - My Aunty" on the left. I tell you, when I saw that it made me cry. Fate, right? Amazing stuff. The shirt also says "Uncle Bob" - who was Aunt Betty's husband. It also says "Cousin Lisa" - Aunt Betty's oldest daughter. She spells her name "Leesa" but wow, right? Crazy.
I was more than ready to get started, if only to get warmer! Poor Erich stood around and waited for me to finish, so by the time I was done, he was pretty much a Romanian popsicle.
Me at the starting line-up:
When we started, I teared up at bit. Me, participating in a 5K. It would've been unthinkable a couple years ago. And my dear Aunt Betty, one of the most wonderful women I've ever known. Her spirit was with me and I could feel her pride. It was moving for me.
I can honestly say I more than held my own in this walk. I was trotting right along like I always do when I exercise, the tunes on my mp3 player helping me keep up the pace. I was passing people all around me during the first leg, when we were walking on pavement. I brought a camera with me to snap a few pics along the route.
There were two routes to take: One was paved, straight and non-hilly and one was on the nature trail surrounding the campgrounds/park where the event took place. When I came to the fork I hesitated a second before choosing the nature trail. My knee was feeling fine so I decided to go for it. It was definitely more challenging, especially downhill. The knee that was not braced cursed me a few times. Plus it was more difficult to pass people on the narrow trail. And a word of advice: LEAVE THE DAMN DOGS AT HOME, PEOPLE. I am not a dog person in the first place but those dogs constantly getting in my way was really pissing me off.
Pics from the trail:
Between the rows of people blocking the narrow trail and the stupid dogs all over the place, I went a little slower than I would've liked. But I still finished in just under an hour, which everyone tells me is pretty good - average, at least. "You were going at a pretty good clip," my boss told me. He and his wife were there as she is a breast cancer survivor. They ran some of the way, he said. He is in super shape and regularly participates in long-distance biking events. He told me they finished about five to seven minutes ahead of me. And I could see there were lots and lots of people behind me.
I once yearned to be average so I should be happy about that, I guess. But next year, I'll kick average's ass.
Me crossing the finish line and afterwards:
We got the hell outta there ASAP in order to thaw my husband out. All in all it was a wonderful experience that I will definitely repeat next year.
Thanks again to everyone who took the time to give their money or words of encouragement to me. I so appreciate it, you have no idea!
The song that inspired the title of this blog:
It took me a week to get this blog out because this has been Hell Week for me. I'm still not sure why any of what happened this week occurred, but that whole thing is another blog in and of itself. I'll churn that out tomorrow since I'm off work for Thanksgiving. See you then.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Run for the Cure
I have decided to participate in this Sunday's CIBC Run for the Cure, which benefits the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation. There is a choice between a 1K and 5K run or walk; I have entered the 5K event.
I would love to say I'd run it, but my knees just won't let me do that, not for 5K...I can run then walk, run then walk, etc. That's what I do normally when I exercise. If I run too much I definitely feel it the next day...or next week. So I'll be walking. The last time Erich and I were in Ohio, we got knee braces for me (for about 80% less than we'd pay in Ontario) and I'll put them on just in case. But it's all good. I've walked a 5K many, many times in the gym. I'll finish.
For years I've sat on the sidelines, wanting to take part in something like this. My father's sister - Aunt Betty - lost her battle with breast cancer over a decade ago. I spent a lot of time with her growing up and her daughter Leesa is around my age; we were buddies as children.
Aunt Betty:
At almost 450 pounds, I was never fit enough to pay tribute to her in any physical way with a cancer walk, ride or run. But this year, I'm gonna do it. I'll do it in her memory but also for myself; a celebration of my own good health and a reminder to never take it for granted.
Terribly late in the game for fundraising, I initially thought about paying the $40 entry fee and not bothering. But then I thought HEY....I have a lot of friends out there! The goal to waive the entry fee is $150. Surely, I thought, I can get 15 of my friends to give me $10. So I went for it. And raised the $150 pretty much overnight. WOW! Well, I do have very cool friends!! So I upped the ante and raised my goal to $300. Almost there!
C'mon now, you know you wanna help me raise money for this wonderful cause! Everyone knows someone touched by this disease. Click HERE to donate to my fund. The festivities start on Sunday morning at 8:00 a.m. The walk itself starts at 10:15. Erich, bless his heart, will get up at what is for him the middle of the night, to cheer me on. I'll let you all know how it goes!
I would love to say I'd run it, but my knees just won't let me do that, not for 5K...I can run then walk, run then walk, etc. That's what I do normally when I exercise. If I run too much I definitely feel it the next day...or next week. So I'll be walking. The last time Erich and I were in Ohio, we got knee braces for me (for about 80% less than we'd pay in Ontario) and I'll put them on just in case. But it's all good. I've walked a 5K many, many times in the gym. I'll finish.
For years I've sat on the sidelines, wanting to take part in something like this. My father's sister - Aunt Betty - lost her battle with breast cancer over a decade ago. I spent a lot of time with her growing up and her daughter Leesa is around my age; we were buddies as children.
Aunt Betty:
At almost 450 pounds, I was never fit enough to pay tribute to her in any physical way with a cancer walk, ride or run. But this year, I'm gonna do it. I'll do it in her memory but also for myself; a celebration of my own good health and a reminder to never take it for granted.
Terribly late in the game for fundraising, I initially thought about paying the $40 entry fee and not bothering. But then I thought HEY....I have a lot of friends out there! The goal to waive the entry fee is $150. Surely, I thought, I can get 15 of my friends to give me $10. So I went for it. And raised the $150 pretty much overnight. WOW! Well, I do have very cool friends!! So I upped the ante and raised my goal to $300. Almost there!
C'mon now, you know you wanna help me raise money for this wonderful cause! Everyone knows someone touched by this disease. Click HERE to donate to my fund. The festivities start on Sunday morning at 8:00 a.m. The walk itself starts at 10:15. Erich, bless his heart, will get up at what is for him the middle of the night, to cheer me on. I'll let you all know how it goes!
Sunday, September 25, 2011
School must've been hell, right?
I am often asked, in some variation of outright or implied - and often with a sympathetic voice - "School must've been hell for you, right?" The answer to that question might seem obvious. Indeed, the people who ask me always seem to assume my formative years were spent hiding in hallways from bullies. The short answer is no, my school years weren't hell. But the long answer is a bit more complicated than that.
I've been larger than my peers all my life, ever since I came screaming into the world at over 9 pounds. "Big-boned", one might call it. Taller than even the boys till some of them caught up with me in high school and the total opposite of petite, I definitely felt out of place among my female classmates.
However, I was fairly "normal" - for my big-boned self - from kindergarten through second grade. Little boys still didn't want to hold my hand at recess, though. I just wasn't the kind of sweet, shy little girl that attracted boys. My idea of letting a boy know I liked him was to toss him across the room. Yes, I really did that in second grade. I even got paddled for it! I mean, screw the whole note-passing, "do you like me, circle yes or no" crap. Who had time for that?
I really don't know where I got this weird, loud and obnoxious personality. Both my parents are very nice people, I swear!
I started changing in third grade. My school photos show someone who looks totally, completely different from second to third grade. I blame the acquisition of glasses and the cutting of my long, blonde hair. Well, not really. I was blind as a bat and refused to let my mother brush out my curls. Steps had to be taken. Both my grandfathers died that summer; my maternal grandmother was battling leukemia. Now, I was certainly too young to understand all of this but I have a theory that I sensed great amounts of tension in the house. So maybe....just maybe...that's when I started comforting myself with food.
Then the trouble started.
There was a girl who rode my school bus who started giving me grief. Now, she was also no string bean but this didn't seem to deter her from attempting to make my life miserable. My older brother cold-cocked her in the head with his metal lunchbox one day, defending me. There was also another older girl who lived near my maternal grandmother and delighted in riding her bike up and down the road, shouting insults at me. Again, my older brother came to my defense. He shot her in the ass with a bb gun as she rode away one day. Yes, he really did.
Even though there were occasional problems with idiots like these, overall I was doing fine socially. I always had lots of friends - I had a few very close ones but honestly, there were people I called "friend" from every social strata at the school. I was not a "prep" (a.k.a. the rich kids, cheerleaders, jocks). I was not a "hood" (which is what we called those who liked to wear black, listen to metal and party). But I got along with everyone. My little group of friends called ourselves the "in-betweens". While we watched the many Molly Ringwald movies of the time and identified with a lot of the teen angst bullshit in them, the whole "us vs. them" theme didn't affect us very much. I would say the experience was different for those who wore the other two social labels, though.
It helps to understand that I grew up in a very rural area where everyone knows everyone's family several generations back. The same faces stare out from my kindergarten and high school graduation class pictures, just 13 years older. We all always knew each other and they always knew me to look the way I did. It's just the way it was.
But every now and then, someone would come along and seemingly try to make me feel like shit. It was always someone who didn't know me very well. There was a duo of guys in 6th grade who were suddenly in my class and man....that was a tough year. They were relentless. Ever since third grade, I just kept getting taller and bigger. By age 12, as I've mentioned before, I was at least 5'6" and 200 pounds. I looked like no one else at my school, not to mention Mrs. Rice's 6th grade class. It was like these two boys wanted to bring me down to size.
In science class one day, the teacher had something he wanted to show us but wanted us to guess what it was (I have no memory of what it actually was). Our desks were arranged in a circle, so we could all see each other. Kids were shouting out guesses. I said "I know! I know!" and one of those two boys said in response to my enthusiasm, LOUDLY, "Cindy, it's not food." I dropped my head in shame. The outcry from my other classmates was fast and furious. Their immediate response was to scowl at him in disgust and, well, they kinda boooed him! I think he was shocked...he had expected them to laugh with him. One girl - one of the cool kids - said "Don't you say that! You don't know her! That is so mean!" I will never forget that she did that for me. She was and is such a kind person that it was automatic for her. The teacher, to his credit, let the other kids take up for me for a minute then he demanded an apology from the boy, who reluctantly gave it.
It didn't stop him or his buddy though. Like I said, that was a bad year and didn't end until I didn't have to deal with them every day because we were all shipped off to the junior high school. We would be merging with the other local elementary school. I was nervous about how these other kids would react to me, for sure. But it was ok. Junior high was pretty much like elementary school - I made friends and it was fine with the occasional asshole thrown in. High school was the same.
Notice I haven't spoken much about boys. That's because there's not a lot to talk about till my senior year in high school. I met the boy who would become my first husband and finally got to experience normal, teenage, high-school life. We went on dates. We went to dances. We swapped class rings - most girls wound yarn around their boyfriends' rings in order to shrink them enough to wear on their fingers. My boyfriend's class ring fit my size-nine finger perfectly but oh well. He was two years younger than me so I ended up going to a few proms, too. Normal high school stuff.
Boys were my friends. I've always gotten along well with guys. I laugh at the same things they laugh at, I "get" them in a lot of ways. Always have. So I was definitely one of those girls the guys thought of as one of their own (and still am) - not girlfriend material. Did I have a few dates here and there? Yes, but not the normal high-school girl experience until I was almost done with high school.
But school was not day-to-day hell. No hiding in the bathroom waiting for the bullies to leave. My large network of friends was something I could always cling to when the occasional freak came out wanting to hurt me. They didn't stand a chance. I knew the people who liked me vastly outnumbered the people who didn't. Obviously I took some of what the freaks had to say to heart. Words hurt a lot more than clenched fists and weave themselves into the fabric of who you are, no matter what.
I had more problems with strangers on the street than kids I encountered every day. I guess I never realized how lucky I was - or at least, how much worse it could've been - until I lost all this weight and people started asking me about school and how it must've been so rough for me! Honestly - yes, I was the fat girl in school. Always. But it's just who I was. And most of the people I saw every day didn't give me shit about it. To them, I was just "Cindy". I might've been the fat girl but I was also funny, smart and kind. Luckily for me, for most kids I grew up with, that was good enough.
I've been larger than my peers all my life, ever since I came screaming into the world at over 9 pounds. "Big-boned", one might call it. Taller than even the boys till some of them caught up with me in high school and the total opposite of petite, I definitely felt out of place among my female classmates.
However, I was fairly "normal" - for my big-boned self - from kindergarten through second grade. Little boys still didn't want to hold my hand at recess, though. I just wasn't the kind of sweet, shy little girl that attracted boys. My idea of letting a boy know I liked him was to toss him across the room. Yes, I really did that in second grade. I even got paddled for it! I mean, screw the whole note-passing, "do you like me, circle yes or no" crap. Who had time for that?
I really don't know where I got this weird, loud and obnoxious personality. Both my parents are very nice people, I swear!
I started changing in third grade. My school photos show someone who looks totally, completely different from second to third grade. I blame the acquisition of glasses and the cutting of my long, blonde hair. Well, not really. I was blind as a bat and refused to let my mother brush out my curls. Steps had to be taken. Both my grandfathers died that summer; my maternal grandmother was battling leukemia. Now, I was certainly too young to understand all of this but I have a theory that I sensed great amounts of tension in the house. So maybe....just maybe...that's when I started comforting myself with food.
Then the trouble started.
There was a girl who rode my school bus who started giving me grief. Now, she was also no string bean but this didn't seem to deter her from attempting to make my life miserable. My older brother cold-cocked her in the head with his metal lunchbox one day, defending me. There was also another older girl who lived near my maternal grandmother and delighted in riding her bike up and down the road, shouting insults at me. Again, my older brother came to my defense. He shot her in the ass with a bb gun as she rode away one day. Yes, he really did.
Even though there were occasional problems with idiots like these, overall I was doing fine socially. I always had lots of friends - I had a few very close ones but honestly, there were people I called "friend" from every social strata at the school. I was not a "prep" (a.k.a. the rich kids, cheerleaders, jocks). I was not a "hood" (which is what we called those who liked to wear black, listen to metal and party). But I got along with everyone. My little group of friends called ourselves the "in-betweens". While we watched the many Molly Ringwald movies of the time and identified with a lot of the teen angst bullshit in them, the whole "us vs. them" theme didn't affect us very much. I would say the experience was different for those who wore the other two social labels, though.
It helps to understand that I grew up in a very rural area where everyone knows everyone's family several generations back. The same faces stare out from my kindergarten and high school graduation class pictures, just 13 years older. We all always knew each other and they always knew me to look the way I did. It's just the way it was.
But every now and then, someone would come along and seemingly try to make me feel like shit. It was always someone who didn't know me very well. There was a duo of guys in 6th grade who were suddenly in my class and man....that was a tough year. They were relentless. Ever since third grade, I just kept getting taller and bigger. By age 12, as I've mentioned before, I was at least 5'6" and 200 pounds. I looked like no one else at my school, not to mention Mrs. Rice's 6th grade class. It was like these two boys wanted to bring me down to size.
In science class one day, the teacher had something he wanted to show us but wanted us to guess what it was (I have no memory of what it actually was). Our desks were arranged in a circle, so we could all see each other. Kids were shouting out guesses. I said "I know! I know!" and one of those two boys said in response to my enthusiasm, LOUDLY, "Cindy, it's not food." I dropped my head in shame. The outcry from my other classmates was fast and furious. Their immediate response was to scowl at him in disgust and, well, they kinda boooed him! I think he was shocked...he had expected them to laugh with him. One girl - one of the cool kids - said "Don't you say that! You don't know her! That is so mean!" I will never forget that she did that for me. She was and is such a kind person that it was automatic for her. The teacher, to his credit, let the other kids take up for me for a minute then he demanded an apology from the boy, who reluctantly gave it.
It didn't stop him or his buddy though. Like I said, that was a bad year and didn't end until I didn't have to deal with them every day because we were all shipped off to the junior high school. We would be merging with the other local elementary school. I was nervous about how these other kids would react to me, for sure. But it was ok. Junior high was pretty much like elementary school - I made friends and it was fine with the occasional asshole thrown in. High school was the same.
Notice I haven't spoken much about boys. That's because there's not a lot to talk about till my senior year in high school. I met the boy who would become my first husband and finally got to experience normal, teenage, high-school life. We went on dates. We went to dances. We swapped class rings - most girls wound yarn around their boyfriends' rings in order to shrink them enough to wear on their fingers. My boyfriend's class ring fit my size-nine finger perfectly but oh well. He was two years younger than me so I ended up going to a few proms, too. Normal high school stuff.
Boys were my friends. I've always gotten along well with guys. I laugh at the same things they laugh at, I "get" them in a lot of ways. Always have. So I was definitely one of those girls the guys thought of as one of their own (and still am) - not girlfriend material. Did I have a few dates here and there? Yes, but not the normal high-school girl experience until I was almost done with high school.
But school was not day-to-day hell. No hiding in the bathroom waiting for the bullies to leave. My large network of friends was something I could always cling to when the occasional freak came out wanting to hurt me. They didn't stand a chance. I knew the people who liked me vastly outnumbered the people who didn't. Obviously I took some of what the freaks had to say to heart. Words hurt a lot more than clenched fists and weave themselves into the fabric of who you are, no matter what.
I had more problems with strangers on the street than kids I encountered every day. I guess I never realized how lucky I was - or at least, how much worse it could've been - until I lost all this weight and people started asking me about school and how it must've been so rough for me! Honestly - yes, I was the fat girl in school. Always. But it's just who I was. And most of the people I saw every day didn't give me shit about it. To them, I was just "Cindy". I might've been the fat girl but I was also funny, smart and kind. Luckily for me, for most kids I grew up with, that was good enough.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Music saves the soul
Music has been saving me lately, that's for sure!
A couple of weeks ago, I went on a girls' road trip to Sharon, PA with my friend Paris to meet up with yet more friends to see Kris Bell. We all got to know Kris when he played in Bo Bice's band. It has been 4-1/2 years since I've seen Kris so I was pretty psyched. I think he'd seen new pictures of me on Facebook because he wasn't too surprised by my transformation. He just looked at me and said "This is crazy! Crazy!" before giving me a hug. I do have to admit the best part about that hug was that his arms went all the way around me. Yep, I'll say it.
I was also able to get one of his t-shirts at the merch table. I'm telling you, I'm a t-shirt-buying fool. I can't get enough of them! I realized the other day I need more hangers. I probably don't, I just need to stop buying t-shirts!
The Kris concert was pretty amazing. It was so great to be at a real, genuine ROCK show and we all danced our asses off. Not since high school have I busted a move like that. Seriously! Actually, I stopped dancing in high school when some guys from a neighboring school laughed and pointed at me. I would get out there occasionally - and slow dancing was always ok - but those boys probably have no idea what affect their ridicule had on me. And I shouldn't have let it get to me like that, but I'm only human. No one wants to risk humiliation.
But in Sharon, I wasn't worried at all about being humiliated. And it was a BLAST. I needed that weekend. It's very possible I will be driving to Nashville for more of that in the near future. Or at least as far as Cincinnati...right Laura? ;)
I had surgery on the 9th to remove the uterine cyst and insert the IUD. It went well - they kept moving it up and I ended up in the OR about 3 hours ahead of schedule. In the course of answering routine questions, I had to tell the attending nurse about my gastric bypass and she insisted on seeing a "before" pic! She was too funny. My wonderful husband keeps our wedding picture in his wallet, so we showed her that. She couldn't believe it. Also, since all I was wearing was that dreaded hospital gown, the OR staff saw my back tattoo and asked about it. It's always nice to have people oooh and ahhh over your success. It reminds you that you have truly accomplished something noteworthy; don't ever forget your own awesomeness.
I felt really good over the weekend, enough to keep a date with Keith Urban and my good friend Randi, who, although doesn't like country music, I think it's safe to say is now a KU convert. Heh. It's like a Bo show; it only takes one time and you go "WTF WAS THAT??" You want more and more and more. So I didn't sit down for 2+ hours. Danced, sang, clapped. Sooooo much fun. Got my first KU t-shirt, too! Probably not such a good idea for a girl who had surgery three days beforehand, though.
Kris Bell says "music saves the soul" and he's right. Bo says "live music matters". Also right. There are few things in life that can make you feel better than music, especially when it's live, right there in front of you so you can FEEL it.
Maybe I pushed it too far Monday. I haven't felt the greatest since then. Tuesday, Erich and I ended up in the ER because he got a large capsule stuck in his throat. I know how horrible that sounds, but he's ok now - through absolutely no help provided by medical staff at the hospital. Ridiculous, long story but we spent 9 hours sitting there and 3 more hours waiting for an ear, nose and throat specialist. So I got no sleep, which didn't help my own health condition. I got some rest Wednesday but still need more to be "normal".
Tomorrow morning I will attend part two of a three-part workshop called Craving Change. Craving Change is a "How-to Guide for Changing Your Relationship with Food." Lord knows most of us need that, right? I'm taking the workshop because I feel like I need to be more in touch with WHY I want to eat the way I do. Since I can't afford therapy, this seems to be the next best thing. There are already some interesting patterns/triggers coming to light for me and I'll do a more extensive blog on that later.
A couple of weeks ago, I went on a girls' road trip to Sharon, PA with my friend Paris to meet up with yet more friends to see Kris Bell. We all got to know Kris when he played in Bo Bice's band. It has been 4-1/2 years since I've seen Kris so I was pretty psyched. I think he'd seen new pictures of me on Facebook because he wasn't too surprised by my transformation. He just looked at me and said "This is crazy! Crazy!" before giving me a hug. I do have to admit the best part about that hug was that his arms went all the way around me. Yep, I'll say it.
I was also able to get one of his t-shirts at the merch table. I'm telling you, I'm a t-shirt-buying fool. I can't get enough of them! I realized the other day I need more hangers. I probably don't, I just need to stop buying t-shirts!
The Kris concert was pretty amazing. It was so great to be at a real, genuine ROCK show and we all danced our asses off. Not since high school have I busted a move like that. Seriously! Actually, I stopped dancing in high school when some guys from a neighboring school laughed and pointed at me. I would get out there occasionally - and slow dancing was always ok - but those boys probably have no idea what affect their ridicule had on me. And I shouldn't have let it get to me like that, but I'm only human. No one wants to risk humiliation.
But in Sharon, I wasn't worried at all about being humiliated. And it was a BLAST. I needed that weekend. It's very possible I will be driving to Nashville for more of that in the near future. Or at least as far as Cincinnati...right Laura? ;)
I had surgery on the 9th to remove the uterine cyst and insert the IUD. It went well - they kept moving it up and I ended up in the OR about 3 hours ahead of schedule. In the course of answering routine questions, I had to tell the attending nurse about my gastric bypass and she insisted on seeing a "before" pic! She was too funny. My wonderful husband keeps our wedding picture in his wallet, so we showed her that. She couldn't believe it. Also, since all I was wearing was that dreaded hospital gown, the OR staff saw my back tattoo and asked about it. It's always nice to have people oooh and ahhh over your success. It reminds you that you have truly accomplished something noteworthy; don't ever forget your own awesomeness.
I felt really good over the weekend, enough to keep a date with Keith Urban and my good friend Randi, who, although doesn't like country music, I think it's safe to say is now a KU convert. Heh. It's like a Bo show; it only takes one time and you go "WTF WAS THAT??" You want more and more and more. So I didn't sit down for 2+ hours. Danced, sang, clapped. Sooooo much fun. Got my first KU t-shirt, too! Probably not such a good idea for a girl who had surgery three days beforehand, though.
Kris Bell says "music saves the soul" and he's right. Bo says "live music matters". Also right. There are few things in life that can make you feel better than music, especially when it's live, right there in front of you so you can FEEL it.
Maybe I pushed it too far Monday. I haven't felt the greatest since then. Tuesday, Erich and I ended up in the ER because he got a large capsule stuck in his throat. I know how horrible that sounds, but he's ok now - through absolutely no help provided by medical staff at the hospital. Ridiculous, long story but we spent 9 hours sitting there and 3 more hours waiting for an ear, nose and throat specialist. So I got no sleep, which didn't help my own health condition. I got some rest Wednesday but still need more to be "normal".
Tomorrow morning I will attend part two of a three-part workshop called Craving Change. Craving Change is a "How-to Guide for Changing Your Relationship with Food." Lord knows most of us need that, right? I'm taking the workshop because I feel like I need to be more in touch with WHY I want to eat the way I do. Since I can't afford therapy, this seems to be the next best thing. There are already some interesting patterns/triggers coming to light for me and I'll do a more extensive blog on that later.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
The Big Sexy Blog
Last night was the second episode in the new series "Big Sexy" on TLC. Now, when I hear the phrase "Big Sexy", the first thing that comes to my mind is pro wrestler Kevin Nash.
Yeah. *dreamy sigh*
But the television show is pretty damn cool, too. I was skeptical when I first heard about it, I admit. How would this show present overweight women? The clown? The slut? The victim? Well, I was pleasantly surprised that none of those stereotypes are present in the main characters on this "reality" show. They are normal women who just happen to be overweight. But they have to navigate their way in the world carrying around extra pounds - which makes for special circumstances worthy of its own series.
Dating, pleasing your parents, finding the perfect outfit, girls' nights out - these are all covered in the first two episodes. But I want to focus on dating.
My fear for the main focus of the show came to light when the girls visited a BBW (Big Beautiful Woman) party in the series premiere. Cringing in horror at the Thunder Thighs Contest and a troubling array of unattractive/weird chubby chasers, one of the girls, Lesley, said "These are my options?? That can't be right."
Amen. I was glad to see the girls in the Thunder Thighs Contest portrayed as the oddballs of the fat-chick world. Most of us don't want to go there.
So they tried speed dating with the "normal" crowd, wherein a man admitted that the only way he'd sleep with an overweight woman was if he was drunk. Again... "these are my options?? That can't be right."
Heavy girls are in a dating no-woman's land: We don't want to be anyone's fetish yet most "normal" guys need to get trashed in order to bear our presence. Is it any wonder our self-esteem takes a hit?
A lot of heavy women (and men) settle. Which is one reason why there's an 80% failure rate for relationships within two years of bariatric surgery. What was once good enough doesn't feel quite so special anymore.
After my divorce, a very good friend of mine told me she was worried that I, at over 400 pounds, would settle; she told me I didn't have to, that I needed to look for a man worthy of me. I took what she said to heart and luckily stumbled upon a wonderful man who was neither a chubby chaser nor did he require a case of beer to be with me. He loved me for me. So trust me, good, normal guys do exist.
Now that's not to say I didn't date my share of losers in that gray area between husbands. The internet dating scene was just taking off, and I made full use of it. I was always very upfront about my size so therefore, I did attract some of the aforementioned chubby chasers. I went out with a couple of the less weird ones and I have to say it was wonderful to look at a man and see complete lust in his eyes. Every woman wants to feel beautiful and desired - that's a rarity if you're plus-sized. It was an ego boost that led me to Erich....I was very bold with him and surprised myself with both my nerve and his favorable response to it.
Confidence breeds results, ladies.
So in response to Lesley - yes, there are other options. And nope, you don't have to settle. I never did! Both my husbands married me when I was very, very overweight.
Now that I've lost weight, I certainly feel male eyes on me that weren't there before. It's a bit weird, a bit scary and yes, flattering. I'm just glad I don't have to navigate that particular minefield anymore!
I'm going under the knife tomorrow to remove the uterine cyst I talked about in my last blog. The doctor will also insert an IUD - both of these things together will hopefully bring some relief to the psycho cycle. Wish me luck.
Yeah. *dreamy sigh*
But the television show is pretty damn cool, too. I was skeptical when I first heard about it, I admit. How would this show present overweight women? The clown? The slut? The victim? Well, I was pleasantly surprised that none of those stereotypes are present in the main characters on this "reality" show. They are normal women who just happen to be overweight. But they have to navigate their way in the world carrying around extra pounds - which makes for special circumstances worthy of its own series.
Dating, pleasing your parents, finding the perfect outfit, girls' nights out - these are all covered in the first two episodes. But I want to focus on dating.
My fear for the main focus of the show came to light when the girls visited a BBW (Big Beautiful Woman) party in the series premiere. Cringing in horror at the Thunder Thighs Contest and a troubling array of unattractive/weird chubby chasers, one of the girls, Lesley, said "These are my options?? That can't be right."
Amen. I was glad to see the girls in the Thunder Thighs Contest portrayed as the oddballs of the fat-chick world. Most of us don't want to go there.
So they tried speed dating with the "normal" crowd, wherein a man admitted that the only way he'd sleep with an overweight woman was if he was drunk. Again... "these are my options?? That can't be right."
Heavy girls are in a dating no-woman's land: We don't want to be anyone's fetish yet most "normal" guys need to get trashed in order to bear our presence. Is it any wonder our self-esteem takes a hit?
A lot of heavy women (and men) settle. Which is one reason why there's an 80% failure rate for relationships within two years of bariatric surgery. What was once good enough doesn't feel quite so special anymore.
After my divorce, a very good friend of mine told me she was worried that I, at over 400 pounds, would settle; she told me I didn't have to, that I needed to look for a man worthy of me. I took what she said to heart and luckily stumbled upon a wonderful man who was neither a chubby chaser nor did he require a case of beer to be with me. He loved me for me. So trust me, good, normal guys do exist.
Now that's not to say I didn't date my share of losers in that gray area between husbands. The internet dating scene was just taking off, and I made full use of it. I was always very upfront about my size so therefore, I did attract some of the aforementioned chubby chasers. I went out with a couple of the less weird ones and I have to say it was wonderful to look at a man and see complete lust in his eyes. Every woman wants to feel beautiful and desired - that's a rarity if you're plus-sized. It was an ego boost that led me to Erich....I was very bold with him and surprised myself with both my nerve and his favorable response to it.
Confidence breeds results, ladies.
So in response to Lesley - yes, there are other options. And nope, you don't have to settle. I never did! Both my husbands married me when I was very, very overweight.
Now that I've lost weight, I certainly feel male eyes on me that weren't there before. It's a bit weird, a bit scary and yes, flattering. I'm just glad I don't have to navigate that particular minefield anymore!
I'm going under the knife tomorrow to remove the uterine cyst I talked about in my last blog. The doctor will also insert an IUD - both of these things together will hopefully bring some relief to the psycho cycle. Wish me luck.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Weren't you here a few years ago?
Warning: Female blog ahead. Just an FYI to my male readers!
Maybe you remember me talking about a gynecologist who was very rude to me a few years ago. I have persistent issues with my psycho-cycle and my family doctor referred me to him for a regular pap smear. She usually does that in her office, but opted to send me to a specialist because of my size. In Canada, a gynecologist is considered a "specialist" and you must have a referral from your regular doctor.
When I saw him before, he did the test and had me wait in his office. He then came in and lectured me for at least five minutes on why he would not be able to help me and basically, I needed to either lose weight or suck it up. When I tried to explain to him that I was considering gastric bypass - and would possibly lose some weight - he rudely interrupted me before I could get my sentence out. When discussing treatment options (and why they wouldn't work for me), including surgery, he gestured to my stomach and said "What am I supposed to do with that?"
Then he gave me a prescription which did help my severe cramps somewhat. Why he decided to humiliate me first and not just go right to the treatment is beyond me. The whole experience upset me so much that I sat in his parking lot in my car and cried for a while before getting it together enough to head back to work.
So you can imagine how I felt when, after tests revealed I have a uterine cyst, my family doctor again referred me to the same guy. Now, I was tempted to demand another doctor but I stopped myself....no. I wanted to go back and see how he treated me now that I've lost 250 pounds. A little social experiment.
I spoke with friends about this doctor and everyone seemed to love him. They were shocked to learn the way he had treated me. Said it didn't sound like him. All these women were thin, I might add.
I had my appointment recently. This time I went straight into his office. There wasn't any need for an exam as I was simply being referred to him for surgery to remove the cyst.
He was affable, charming. Smiled broadly at me and explained everything in great detail with patience. He does have a sarcastic wit, but that's fine. So do I! In short, it was a different visit. Near the end, he was looking through my file and said:
"You were here a few years ago, yes?"
I nod at him. "Yes."
*shuffling paperwork* "You...you've lost quite a bit of weight, haven't you?"
Picture me trying to stifle a grin. "Yes."
"How much?"
Pause. "250 pounds."
He shook his head and said, "Wow! That's fantastic! Amazing!"
"Thank you." I think I actually crossed my arms in front of me at this point and smiled with satisfaction. LOL!
Then he launched into a bunch of questions about where I had it done, what my life is like now, do I still take any prescription medication, etc., etc. He told me he was very happy for me and "You see things like this on tv, but wow, here it is! Amazing."
Mm-hm.
Did I mention that the surgery I'm scheduled for is not invasive? They will go right in through the vagina, no cutting required. So his whole argument of "what am I supposed to do with that"? goes right out the fucking window. I'm just sayin'.
My family doctor told me I had "mild" endometriosis, but he wasn't prepared to make that diagnosis. Basically, he said, you can't say for sure that someone has endometriosis without removing the uterus to examine it. Diagnostic tests are not advanced enough to be so definitive. Which makes me think if MEN had to put up with psycho-cycles, I bet science would have a cure for the shit by now, let alone have proper testing in place. But I digress. So to treat said psycho-cycle, he will insert an IUD at the time of the surgery. Since I've never had kids my uterus is very small (HEY! at least something is!) and insertion will be painful if it's done in an office visit, which is the norm. So since I'll be knocked out for the cyst removal anyway, he'll do it then.
Now listen. I don't know for sure why none of this stuff was addressed till I lost weight. Perhaps testing was more difficult on a 450-pound woman. I totally get that. But honestly....couldn't something have been done to ease the suffering I have to endure every month?? Obviously, my weight was not the issue since the problem is still there now that I'm thinner. So...what? If you're fat, too damn bad? That's not acceptable. It's especially not acceptable to make obese patients feel like their ailments are entirely their own fault when it's not necessarily true. Doctors are supposed to help ALL patients. A doctor throwing up his or her hands because it's more difficult to diagnose or treat an obese patient is shameful.
Surgery date is September 9. Here's hoping I get some relief.
Maybe you remember me talking about a gynecologist who was very rude to me a few years ago. I have persistent issues with my psycho-cycle and my family doctor referred me to him for a regular pap smear. She usually does that in her office, but opted to send me to a specialist because of my size. In Canada, a gynecologist is considered a "specialist" and you must have a referral from your regular doctor.
When I saw him before, he did the test and had me wait in his office. He then came in and lectured me for at least five minutes on why he would not be able to help me and basically, I needed to either lose weight or suck it up. When I tried to explain to him that I was considering gastric bypass - and would possibly lose some weight - he rudely interrupted me before I could get my sentence out. When discussing treatment options (and why they wouldn't work for me), including surgery, he gestured to my stomach and said "What am I supposed to do with that?"
Then he gave me a prescription which did help my severe cramps somewhat. Why he decided to humiliate me first and not just go right to the treatment is beyond me. The whole experience upset me so much that I sat in his parking lot in my car and cried for a while before getting it together enough to head back to work.
So you can imagine how I felt when, after tests revealed I have a uterine cyst, my family doctor again referred me to the same guy. Now, I was tempted to demand another doctor but I stopped myself....no. I wanted to go back and see how he treated me now that I've lost 250 pounds. A little social experiment.
I spoke with friends about this doctor and everyone seemed to love him. They were shocked to learn the way he had treated me. Said it didn't sound like him. All these women were thin, I might add.
I had my appointment recently. This time I went straight into his office. There wasn't any need for an exam as I was simply being referred to him for surgery to remove the cyst.
He was affable, charming. Smiled broadly at me and explained everything in great detail with patience. He does have a sarcastic wit, but that's fine. So do I! In short, it was a different visit. Near the end, he was looking through my file and said:
"You were here a few years ago, yes?"
I nod at him. "Yes."
*shuffling paperwork* "You...you've lost quite a bit of weight, haven't you?"
Picture me trying to stifle a grin. "Yes."
"How much?"
Pause. "250 pounds."
He shook his head and said, "Wow! That's fantastic! Amazing!"
"Thank you." I think I actually crossed my arms in front of me at this point and smiled with satisfaction. LOL!
Then he launched into a bunch of questions about where I had it done, what my life is like now, do I still take any prescription medication, etc., etc. He told me he was very happy for me and "You see things like this on tv, but wow, here it is! Amazing."
Mm-hm.
Did I mention that the surgery I'm scheduled for is not invasive? They will go right in through the vagina, no cutting required. So his whole argument of "what am I supposed to do with that"? goes right out the fucking window. I'm just sayin'.
My family doctor told me I had "mild" endometriosis, but he wasn't prepared to make that diagnosis. Basically, he said, you can't say for sure that someone has endometriosis without removing the uterus to examine it. Diagnostic tests are not advanced enough to be so definitive. Which makes me think if MEN had to put up with psycho-cycles, I bet science would have a cure for the shit by now, let alone have proper testing in place. But I digress. So to treat said psycho-cycle, he will insert an IUD at the time of the surgery. Since I've never had kids my uterus is very small (HEY! at least something is!) and insertion will be painful if it's done in an office visit, which is the norm. So since I'll be knocked out for the cyst removal anyway, he'll do it then.
Now listen. I don't know for sure why none of this stuff was addressed till I lost weight. Perhaps testing was more difficult on a 450-pound woman. I totally get that. But honestly....couldn't something have been done to ease the suffering I have to endure every month?? Obviously, my weight was not the issue since the problem is still there now that I'm thinner. So...what? If you're fat, too damn bad? That's not acceptable. It's especially not acceptable to make obese patients feel like their ailments are entirely their own fault when it's not necessarily true. Doctors are supposed to help ALL patients. A doctor throwing up his or her hands because it's more difficult to diagnose or treat an obese patient is shameful.
Surgery date is September 9. Here's hoping I get some relief.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Today I'm two
Today is the second anniversary of my re-birth.
It’s funny that I had the surgery on the 7th day of the 7th month because my actual birthday is also on the 7th. My stepdaughter’s birthday is also on the 7th; seven has been good to me. The number seems to seek me out in a lot of ways. It’s a stereotypical lucky number but for me it’s really true. July, as well as February, has been good for me in the past as well.
So it was perhaps fated that my life changed so drastically on the 7th day of July in 2009.
In the past year, I have reached my goal weight yet had many struggles. It never ends, this addiction. The pull towards old habits is still intoxicating to me, I will admit. Fighting it every day, sometimes minute by minute, is something I will endure forever. But I have to realize that maintenance is something fought for and really, aren’t all things in life worth having?
Once upon a time I figured I would be “normal” someday and everything would be perfect. That is not to be and it’s ok. You take yourself with you wherever you go and simply changing the exterior does nothing to change YOU.
The two-year, post-op mark is a crucial time for gastric bypass patients. Some have started the regain by this time as the so-called “honeymoon phase” is over. If you haven’t learned how to deal with food, you will find yourself in the same position you were in pre-op. Can’t just change your stomach; you have to change your brain.
Also, studies show that within two years, 80% of gastric bypass patients who were in a relationship prior to the surgery are now single. That might be shocking to some of you but probably not to most WLS patients. Everything changes. If you don’t have a partner who is willing to roll with you, you’re in trouble. As I’ve said many times before, I’m an extremely lucky woman. I don’t see a divorce happening with Erich & myself, thank goodness. I know two post-ops whose relationships are experiencing major turmoil right now. Pretty much right on schedule, too.
By this time, studies also show that well over half of post-ops will change careers and/or jobs. Here’s the thing – both in relationships and jobs – what might have worked before may not now. Sometimes pre-ops settled for less than they should have thinking they could do no better or they didn’t have the energy to strive for more. Sometimes your ambitions simply shift; partners and offices sometimes just don’t fit anymore. Losing 100 or 200 pounds alters everything about you.
Tonight I’m going to celebrate my re-birthday by having dinner with my good friend Randi; then we’re coming back to my place to wallow in Bo Bice videos, pictures and stories. Can’t think of a better party!! Of course the real party will be this Saturday when Bo plays his first solo Canadian gig in Burlington, Ontario – about 45 minutes away from me. I met Bo Bice for the first time on July 8, 2006 (see…almost the 7th…LOL). The Burlington show will be my 25th. So you see, I have a lot to celebrate in the next few days. WHOO-HOO!! Bo is a critical piece of my journey. I give him, the whole experience of being his fan, some credit for helping me see there was more to life than sitting on my sofa eating pizza. If that sounds freaky to you, well I’m sorry. He and the people I’ve met because of him are very, VERY important to me.
This time last year, I blogged and shared a video taken the night before my surgery. I watched it again just now and that woman sitting on the sofa feels further and further away from me which is a little sad. I don’t want to lose her completely. I liked her! She still is me in some ways but in many other ways, she isn’t anymore. That woman sacrificed herself so I could live. She did the right thing and I am grateful to her for making such a brave, inspired decision.
I feel like that woman is counting on me to succeed. And because I care about her, I don’t want to let her down. It’s my job to continue the work she started and that’s my ultimate goal. Here’s to many more years of freedom!
Then and now (click to enlarge):
It’s funny that I had the surgery on the 7th day of the 7th month because my actual birthday is also on the 7th. My stepdaughter’s birthday is also on the 7th; seven has been good to me. The number seems to seek me out in a lot of ways. It’s a stereotypical lucky number but for me it’s really true. July, as well as February, has been good for me in the past as well.
So it was perhaps fated that my life changed so drastically on the 7th day of July in 2009.
In the past year, I have reached my goal weight yet had many struggles. It never ends, this addiction. The pull towards old habits is still intoxicating to me, I will admit. Fighting it every day, sometimes minute by minute, is something I will endure forever. But I have to realize that maintenance is something fought for and really, aren’t all things in life worth having?
Once upon a time I figured I would be “normal” someday and everything would be perfect. That is not to be and it’s ok. You take yourself with you wherever you go and simply changing the exterior does nothing to change YOU.
The two-year, post-op mark is a crucial time for gastric bypass patients. Some have started the regain by this time as the so-called “honeymoon phase” is over. If you haven’t learned how to deal with food, you will find yourself in the same position you were in pre-op. Can’t just change your stomach; you have to change your brain.
Also, studies show that within two years, 80% of gastric bypass patients who were in a relationship prior to the surgery are now single. That might be shocking to some of you but probably not to most WLS patients. Everything changes. If you don’t have a partner who is willing to roll with you, you’re in trouble. As I’ve said many times before, I’m an extremely lucky woman. I don’t see a divorce happening with Erich & myself, thank goodness. I know two post-ops whose relationships are experiencing major turmoil right now. Pretty much right on schedule, too.
By this time, studies also show that well over half of post-ops will change careers and/or jobs. Here’s the thing – both in relationships and jobs – what might have worked before may not now. Sometimes pre-ops settled for less than they should have thinking they could do no better or they didn’t have the energy to strive for more. Sometimes your ambitions simply shift; partners and offices sometimes just don’t fit anymore. Losing 100 or 200 pounds alters everything about you.
Tonight I’m going to celebrate my re-birthday by having dinner with my good friend Randi; then we’re coming back to my place to wallow in Bo Bice videos, pictures and stories. Can’t think of a better party!! Of course the real party will be this Saturday when Bo plays his first solo Canadian gig in Burlington, Ontario – about 45 minutes away from me. I met Bo Bice for the first time on July 8, 2006 (see…almost the 7th…LOL). The Burlington show will be my 25th. So you see, I have a lot to celebrate in the next few days. WHOO-HOO!! Bo is a critical piece of my journey. I give him, the whole experience of being his fan, some credit for helping me see there was more to life than sitting on my sofa eating pizza. If that sounds freaky to you, well I’m sorry. He and the people I’ve met because of him are very, VERY important to me.
This time last year, I blogged and shared a video taken the night before my surgery. I watched it again just now and that woman sitting on the sofa feels further and further away from me which is a little sad. I don’t want to lose her completely. I liked her! She still is me in some ways but in many other ways, she isn’t anymore. That woman sacrificed herself so I could live. She did the right thing and I am grateful to her for making such a brave, inspired decision.
I feel like that woman is counting on me to succeed. And because I care about her, I don’t want to let her down. It’s my job to continue the work she started and that’s my ultimate goal. Here’s to many more years of freedom!
Then and now (click to enlarge):
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Strong like bull!
At some point, everyone needs to stretch themselves out of their comfort zone. Challenging yourself is important, especially when it comes to either achieving or maintaining weight-loss goals. If you get a little too comfy you can get bored and then it's just a hop, skip and a jump back to old habits....funny how I never got bored with sitting around on the sofa all night eating chips, huh?
I quit my women's-only Goodlife gym a couple of months ago. Work was a little nuts in that my hours were cut back severely and I was feeling the pinch of paying the monthly fee. There were times I thought "well...do I want groceries or a gym membership?" Something had to give. Erich was getting mega overtime at his job but he was trying to save up for our 10th-anniversary trip. The weather was warming up and I knew from my experience last spring that I cut my hours back a lot at the gym and just went outside for exercise. So, I quit.
But I didn't go outside much.
I got lazy. I got comfortable. I walked every now and then but did no DVDs or anything inside the house. Bad, bad, bad. Looking back, it's really something how easy it is to get out of the habit and routine of regularly working out. I gained about 5 pounds so that's not so horrible but I knew I had to change something and fast.
I don't know if any of you subscribe to WagJag, but it totally rocks. I'm not even sure if it's available in the States. Basically, you buy coupons worth TONS off goods and services. A coupon came up for a local co-ed health club called World Gym. For $30, you got a 30-day membership, 3 personal training sessions and unlimited tanning (LOL). Sign me up.
The intent was to start the package one month before we left for the Dominican so I could take advantage of the tanning right up until we left. But psycho-cycle had other plans and screwed up the timing. The week I'd planned to join, I was pretty incapacitated and in no mood, you know what I mean? I didn't want to lose the week we'd be gone, so I waited till we came back.
On Thursday, I started with Rebecca at World Gym. What is it about female personal trainers? More often than not, they're about 5 feet tall and 100 pounds soaking wet. LOL! She's a tiny little thing but STRONG LIKE BULL (obscure Bo Bice reference). I was supposed to start on Wednesday but I went in and they had totally screwed up my appointment, so I ended up with Rebecca on Thursday. Good choice. The first slot was supposed to be with a guy. I was a little apprehensive about that.
Rebecca is awesome. She showed me new things that I hadn't tried at Goodlife. Super cool.
The funniest thing happened shortly after I arrived. First of all, there were no women there besides 2 girls working the front desk, Rebecca and me. All guys. Young, hot, muscular guys. Now this isn't as great as it sounds. If you've followed this blog at all, you know somewhat how my brain works and can appreciate how intimidating this situation was for me. The good news was the place wasn't crowded. This is a very busy gym and I came at 8 pm for a reason. Score.
So Rebecca and I are walking toward a weight machine and there's one of the said young, hot, muscular guys trying to balance himself face down on a huge exercise ball. Suddenly, he slipped off and did a faceplant - he went forward and the ball went backward, slamming into the wall. Rebecca stopped and asked, "Where are you going??" Obviously she knew the guy. By this time, he'd rolled over onto his back and was laughing at himself. Rebecca and I giggled and continued on our way.
Here's the lesson, kiddies: Everyone does a faceplant now and then. Even a guy who is obviously very at home in any gym, very coordinated and looks physically "perfect". But no one is really perfect and we all need to just freakin' relax. If dude can laugh at himself, then I should be able to as well.
The session on Thursday went great and I saw her again today with the same results. I like the machines they have and the array of classes offered. I may try spin or zumba just because. The classes are intimidating to me because I am NOT coordinated at all (I used to be; something has happened to me since I got old!) and fear making an idiot out of myself. But I WILL try it because I need to prove to myself that I can do it and it'll be fine.
At first, I thought there were no private change rooms in the locker room but I was wrong; there is one. Score again. I refused to get naked in my grade school locker room and I still won't do it.
Thursday was like being the new kid at school. I wasn't too sure about the place, but today was better. And I know it'll just get easier. Really, it's not a big deal. I never thought I'd say that, but I think a co-ed gym will be just what I need to transcend from fat girl to normal in my own head. No one gives a rat's ass what I'm doing two treadmills down from them and honestly, no one probably ever would have. Truth is, it's all ME. It's all about how I perceive myself and that's improving exponentially every day.
I've spent about a year reveling in being "normal". Well, as my two-year post-op anniversary approaches, it's time for a new purpose. I explained to Rebecca today that my goal is no longer weight loss, it's strength. Value. Physical strength leading to mental strength. Weight loss will follow that mindset. It just will.
I quit my women's-only Goodlife gym a couple of months ago. Work was a little nuts in that my hours were cut back severely and I was feeling the pinch of paying the monthly fee. There were times I thought "well...do I want groceries or a gym membership?" Something had to give. Erich was getting mega overtime at his job but he was trying to save up for our 10th-anniversary trip. The weather was warming up and I knew from my experience last spring that I cut my hours back a lot at the gym and just went outside for exercise. So, I quit.
But I didn't go outside much.
I got lazy. I got comfortable. I walked every now and then but did no DVDs or anything inside the house. Bad, bad, bad. Looking back, it's really something how easy it is to get out of the habit and routine of regularly working out. I gained about 5 pounds so that's not so horrible but I knew I had to change something and fast.
I don't know if any of you subscribe to WagJag, but it totally rocks. I'm not even sure if it's available in the States. Basically, you buy coupons worth TONS off goods and services. A coupon came up for a local co-ed health club called World Gym. For $30, you got a 30-day membership, 3 personal training sessions and unlimited tanning (LOL). Sign me up.
The intent was to start the package one month before we left for the Dominican so I could take advantage of the tanning right up until we left. But psycho-cycle had other plans and screwed up the timing. The week I'd planned to join, I was pretty incapacitated and in no mood, you know what I mean? I didn't want to lose the week we'd be gone, so I waited till we came back.
On Thursday, I started with Rebecca at World Gym. What is it about female personal trainers? More often than not, they're about 5 feet tall and 100 pounds soaking wet. LOL! She's a tiny little thing but STRONG LIKE BULL (obscure Bo Bice reference). I was supposed to start on Wednesday but I went in and they had totally screwed up my appointment, so I ended up with Rebecca on Thursday. Good choice. The first slot was supposed to be with a guy. I was a little apprehensive about that.
Rebecca is awesome. She showed me new things that I hadn't tried at Goodlife. Super cool.
The funniest thing happened shortly after I arrived. First of all, there were no women there besides 2 girls working the front desk, Rebecca and me. All guys. Young, hot, muscular guys. Now this isn't as great as it sounds. If you've followed this blog at all, you know somewhat how my brain works and can appreciate how intimidating this situation was for me. The good news was the place wasn't crowded. This is a very busy gym and I came at 8 pm for a reason. Score.
So Rebecca and I are walking toward a weight machine and there's one of the said young, hot, muscular guys trying to balance himself face down on a huge exercise ball. Suddenly, he slipped off and did a faceplant - he went forward and the ball went backward, slamming into the wall. Rebecca stopped and asked, "Where are you going??" Obviously she knew the guy. By this time, he'd rolled over onto his back and was laughing at himself. Rebecca and I giggled and continued on our way.
Here's the lesson, kiddies: Everyone does a faceplant now and then. Even a guy who is obviously very at home in any gym, very coordinated and looks physically "perfect". But no one is really perfect and we all need to just freakin' relax. If dude can laugh at himself, then I should be able to as well.
The session on Thursday went great and I saw her again today with the same results. I like the machines they have and the array of classes offered. I may try spin or zumba just because. The classes are intimidating to me because I am NOT coordinated at all (I used to be; something has happened to me since I got old!) and fear making an idiot out of myself. But I WILL try it because I need to prove to myself that I can do it and it'll be fine.
At first, I thought there were no private change rooms in the locker room but I was wrong; there is one. Score again. I refused to get naked in my grade school locker room and I still won't do it.
Thursday was like being the new kid at school. I wasn't too sure about the place, but today was better. And I know it'll just get easier. Really, it's not a big deal. I never thought I'd say that, but I think a co-ed gym will be just what I need to transcend from fat girl to normal in my own head. No one gives a rat's ass what I'm doing two treadmills down from them and honestly, no one probably ever would have. Truth is, it's all ME. It's all about how I perceive myself and that's improving exponentially every day.
I've spent about a year reveling in being "normal". Well, as my two-year post-op anniversary approaches, it's time for a new purpose. I explained to Rebecca today that my goal is no longer weight loss, it's strength. Value. Physical strength leading to mental strength. Weight loss will follow that mindset. It just will.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Dominican a-ha moments
Erich and I recently went on a vacation that was 10 years overdue. For our 10th anniversary, we went to the Dominican Republic.
Since we've been married, we take our time off work to go to Ohio. Twice a year, a week each time. At my job I don't have a lot of days off so after the Ohio trips are done, I'm past done with vacation time. Erich does have more, but usually stays home when he takes it...because I can't take any more time off. I sometimes take an unpaid day or two here and there and we travel somewhere to see Bo and all our friends. So that's been the extent of our vacations. Forever.
This year we decided to buck the trend.
I'm not going to bore you with a long, winding blog about the minute details of the trip. Let me just say that I had a-ha moments every day.
Day One: Even getting on a plane nowadays is extraordinary. I zipped down the aisle to my seat (lots of room) and clipped my seat belt together for the first time without an extender. The last time I flew - in December 2009 - I was happy to fit into one seat but still required an extender. This time I had at least 6 inches of belt leftover. And yes, we took a picture (as always, click to enlarge):
I used an airplane bathroom for the very first time. I was always too afraid of not being able to fit and being embarrassed so I learned to hold it, even on longer flights. And there were the logistics of getting up, (yes, simply "getting up" in such a small place), inconveniencing my row-mates, not fitting down the aisle properly, etc., etc. This time I decided to try it and of course it was fine. See? Ordinary things become extraordinary.
Day Two: I am sitting on a white-sand beach, looking out over a crystal blue sea. I have on a swimsuit with no towel or store-bought piece of fabric to cover my body. My husband smiles at me and grabs the camera to take my photograph and I don't object. No one is staring, I don't feel self-conscious. A total first on a beach.
Day Three: Excursion to a national park and the El Limon waterfall. There will be hiking and horseback riding involved. Old thoughts creeping up on me as we wait for our horses to be chosen by local guides. Oh, I need a BIG, STRONG HORSE! God, what kind of Clydesdale will they select for me? I'm going to break the horse. They place the horses in front of stairs so we can climb up on them better. I'm starting to panic. Everyone is going to watch me climb on this horse?? Of course everything is fine. My horse is normal and seems to have no problem carting me up the huge hill. We have to hike to the bottom of the waterfall and there are more stairs. My arthritic knees are such that going down stairs is an issue. Going UP is no problem. The clouds burst open and a warm, hard rain begins to fall. Erich had to help me going down but he has problems going back up, while I trot right past him in the pouring rain. He tells me to go ahead but I wait for him at two points, then worry when I get to the top and he doesn't appear right away. Our roles are reversed in some ways now, especially when his asthma acts up.
As I'm riding back to camp in the rain on this horse, tears come to my eyes. I never would've entertained the notion of doing something like this two years ago. It would've been impossible. And look what I would've missed. Look at the life I was missing out on. It's crazy and makes me emotional.
Day Four: We go on a shopping trip with two other couples to the capital of the province, Samana. On the way to town, talk eventually turns to my weight loss. "Did you do it naturally or with surgery?" a woman asks. I loathe this question. I guess I will hear it for the rest of my life. I need to make some kind of peace with it, I suppose. "Surgery," I answer. "But I still worked my ass off." This is my go-to answer as I always feel the need to dispel the myth that you have bariatric surgery and the weight magically falls away. She nods and asks me if I have any regrets. "Not a single one," I reply. "Best thing I ever did in my life."
We explore the town. I can walk all day long and feel nothing. NOTHING! It's amazing stuff. We go to a little shop to buy something to drink. They have peanut butter!!!! I am missing my peanut butter already! LOL! Five US dollars for a tiny jar, though. I leave it. Ahhhhhhh peanut butter. We sit outside on the patio of a little cafe and hydrate. In chairs I never would've attempted to sit in two years ago. The small things are fantastic, you know?
Day Five: A free day. I wander around the resort taking pictures. We go back to the beach and head to dinner early. I bought five new dresses before I went on this trip. Dresses. ME!! I brought four with me and hey - they're comfy and I actually think I look ok in them. We have a drink in the poolside bar and the waitress keeps refreshing them for us. "Uno mas?" (one more?) she'll say while sitting new drinks in front of us. I've never drank as much alcohol in my life as I have this week. I was worried about that, being post-op. Always having been a cheap drunk, it's even worse now with my new plumbing system. And these drinks are STRONG. I'm not drunk but am having trouble maintaining my balance. LOL! Drinks, sun, a dress, a little tan - is this me? Wow.
Day Six: The day of our 10th anniversary and we're heading out on an ATV excursion. Yes, we're riding an ATV. One. With me on the back. As I climb behind Erich and wrap my arms around him, I am aware that this is a big first. I tell him "We have to get a motorcycle now." It's a messy, muddy day but so much fun. We're zipping along backroads in the Dominican countryside waving to local children and again I think how impossible this would've been pre-op. And the JOY, the LIFE, the fantastic moments I would've missed out on spending one more day trapped inside my body.
Day Seven: Another free day. We laze around the beach, the patio. A resort photographer offers to take some pictures of us. He takes a couple of me by myself with his pet iguana draped around my shoulders. He asks me to put my hands on my hips. I do and think the following: This is going to be a good picture. I feel my waist dip in where I put my hands. My body is so different now, huh? When we go look at the finished pictures later on, I can hardly believe that normal-sized, confident-looking woman is me. My mother-in-law looks at it when we get back home and nods her head in admiration. "Wow," she says then looks at me. "Congratulations, darling. Congratulations." Indeed.
It sure was a trip to remember, that's for sure. Full of WHOA moments. I hope I never take the normal, little things in life for granted just because I'm now at a size that allows me to do so. If I forget, I feel like I could easily go back to pre-op behaviors. And that's a slippery slope to walk, lemme tell ya. Falling into the abyss is only a few bad decisions away and I want to continue to live this wonderful life I've only recently discovered.
Since we've been married, we take our time off work to go to Ohio. Twice a year, a week each time. At my job I don't have a lot of days off so after the Ohio trips are done, I'm past done with vacation time. Erich does have more, but usually stays home when he takes it...because I can't take any more time off. I sometimes take an unpaid day or two here and there and we travel somewhere to see Bo and all our friends. So that's been the extent of our vacations. Forever.
This year we decided to buck the trend.
I'm not going to bore you with a long, winding blog about the minute details of the trip. Let me just say that I had a-ha moments every day.
Day One: Even getting on a plane nowadays is extraordinary. I zipped down the aisle to my seat (lots of room) and clipped my seat belt together for the first time without an extender. The last time I flew - in December 2009 - I was happy to fit into one seat but still required an extender. This time I had at least 6 inches of belt leftover. And yes, we took a picture (as always, click to enlarge):
I used an airplane bathroom for the very first time. I was always too afraid of not being able to fit and being embarrassed so I learned to hold it, even on longer flights. And there were the logistics of getting up, (yes, simply "getting up" in such a small place), inconveniencing my row-mates, not fitting down the aisle properly, etc., etc. This time I decided to try it and of course it was fine. See? Ordinary things become extraordinary.
Day Two: I am sitting on a white-sand beach, looking out over a crystal blue sea. I have on a swimsuit with no towel or store-bought piece of fabric to cover my body. My husband smiles at me and grabs the camera to take my photograph and I don't object. No one is staring, I don't feel self-conscious. A total first on a beach.
Day Three: Excursion to a national park and the El Limon waterfall. There will be hiking and horseback riding involved. Old thoughts creeping up on me as we wait for our horses to be chosen by local guides. Oh, I need a BIG, STRONG HORSE! God, what kind of Clydesdale will they select for me? I'm going to break the horse. They place the horses in front of stairs so we can climb up on them better. I'm starting to panic. Everyone is going to watch me climb on this horse?? Of course everything is fine. My horse is normal and seems to have no problem carting me up the huge hill. We have to hike to the bottom of the waterfall and there are more stairs. My arthritic knees are such that going down stairs is an issue. Going UP is no problem. The clouds burst open and a warm, hard rain begins to fall. Erich had to help me going down but he has problems going back up, while I trot right past him in the pouring rain. He tells me to go ahead but I wait for him at two points, then worry when I get to the top and he doesn't appear right away. Our roles are reversed in some ways now, especially when his asthma acts up.
As I'm riding back to camp in the rain on this horse, tears come to my eyes. I never would've entertained the notion of doing something like this two years ago. It would've been impossible. And look what I would've missed. Look at the life I was missing out on. It's crazy and makes me emotional.
Day Four: We go on a shopping trip with two other couples to the capital of the province, Samana. On the way to town, talk eventually turns to my weight loss. "Did you do it naturally or with surgery?" a woman asks. I loathe this question. I guess I will hear it for the rest of my life. I need to make some kind of peace with it, I suppose. "Surgery," I answer. "But I still worked my ass off." This is my go-to answer as I always feel the need to dispel the myth that you have bariatric surgery and the weight magically falls away. She nods and asks me if I have any regrets. "Not a single one," I reply. "Best thing I ever did in my life."
We explore the town. I can walk all day long and feel nothing. NOTHING! It's amazing stuff. We go to a little shop to buy something to drink. They have peanut butter!!!! I am missing my peanut butter already! LOL! Five US dollars for a tiny jar, though. I leave it. Ahhhhhhh peanut butter. We sit outside on the patio of a little cafe and hydrate. In chairs I never would've attempted to sit in two years ago. The small things are fantastic, you know?
Day Five: A free day. I wander around the resort taking pictures. We go back to the beach and head to dinner early. I bought five new dresses before I went on this trip. Dresses. ME!! I brought four with me and hey - they're comfy and I actually think I look ok in them. We have a drink in the poolside bar and the waitress keeps refreshing them for us. "Uno mas?" (one more?) she'll say while sitting new drinks in front of us. I've never drank as much alcohol in my life as I have this week. I was worried about that, being post-op. Always having been a cheap drunk, it's even worse now with my new plumbing system. And these drinks are STRONG. I'm not drunk but am having trouble maintaining my balance. LOL! Drinks, sun, a dress, a little tan - is this me? Wow.
Day Six: The day of our 10th anniversary and we're heading out on an ATV excursion. Yes, we're riding an ATV. One. With me on the back. As I climb behind Erich and wrap my arms around him, I am aware that this is a big first. I tell him "We have to get a motorcycle now." It's a messy, muddy day but so much fun. We're zipping along backroads in the Dominican countryside waving to local children and again I think how impossible this would've been pre-op. And the JOY, the LIFE, the fantastic moments I would've missed out on spending one more day trapped inside my body.
Day Seven: Another free day. We laze around the beach, the patio. A resort photographer offers to take some pictures of us. He takes a couple of me by myself with his pet iguana draped around my shoulders. He asks me to put my hands on my hips. I do and think the following: This is going to be a good picture. I feel my waist dip in where I put my hands. My body is so different now, huh? When we go look at the finished pictures later on, I can hardly believe that normal-sized, confident-looking woman is me. My mother-in-law looks at it when we get back home and nods her head in admiration. "Wow," she says then looks at me. "Congratulations, darling. Congratulations." Indeed.
It sure was a trip to remember, that's for sure. Full of WHOA moments. I hope I never take the normal, little things in life for granted just because I'm now at a size that allows me to do so. If I forget, I feel like I could easily go back to pre-op behaviors. And that's a slippery slope to walk, lemme tell ya. Falling into the abyss is only a few bad decisions away and I want to continue to live this wonderful life I've only recently discovered.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Grocery cart judging
Say you're in a checkout line and the chick in front of you is about 50 pounds (or more) overweight. As you wait for the teenage cashier to figure out how to break a $20 bill, you glance around and your eyes fall on the contents of said overweight woman's shopping cart. Frozen pizza, donuts, two cases of pop, maybe some Hamburger Helper. There's a kid beside her (also overweight) and you notice the Lunchables and Lucky Charms.
Do you judge?
Most people do. They feel her shopping habits reflect back onto her appearance and therefore, her health. Add in the assumption that's she's responsible for another mouth to feed and is possibly continuing the cycle and it ain't good. And maybe it's deserved silent criticism to a certain extent.
I know I used to feel eyes on my shopping cart all the time. It's as if when people saw me, they were interested in what I was eating to make myself look the way I did. Especially the women, especially the thin women.
Once, there was a mother and daughter in the aisle where I was shopping. The girl was trying to get her mom to buy certain pasta sauces. I reached for our usual, a four-cheese blend - just after the girl had requested it. The mom said, pointedly looking right at me "I'm not buying anything that says FOUR-CHEESE!" I just walked away but figure after I was out of earshot, the mom used my appearance as an example of why one did not want to eat four-cheese pasta sauce. Lesson learned.
What's really funny is the way I now buy all this healthy stuff and am so proud to have it in my cart and put it on the belt at the cash register. LOL! But buying tampons and chocolate together - often by themselves - I figure the cashier and women behind me must get a chuckle out of that.
On the whole, I'm more relaxed about the grocery-cart judging than I used to be. It's usually a pretty good mix these days anyway. You'll find frozen pizza but you'll also find fresh fruit and skim milk; low-fat cheese and nonfat yogurt but there will probably be a bag of fries as well. Nothing in there will kill me unless I eat it every day, all day. Moderation is the key, right?
So if you find yourself morphing into the Judge Judy of the grocery store, think about this: Maybe all those nachos and beer are for a party! Maybe the waif with the "sensible" cart full of greenery is anorexic. And yep, maybe the mom with the cartload of donuts and pop has a problem, too. But don't be disgusted by her; you'd feel sorry for the anorexic woman, right? Feel just as sympathetic for someone who suffers from food addiction.
If there's one thing I've learned throughout this journey is don't jump to conclusions. You never know what other people's stories are. Everyone has their own pain and their own journey.
Do you judge?
Most people do. They feel her shopping habits reflect back onto her appearance and therefore, her health. Add in the assumption that's she's responsible for another mouth to feed and is possibly continuing the cycle and it ain't good. And maybe it's deserved silent criticism to a certain extent.
I know I used to feel eyes on my shopping cart all the time. It's as if when people saw me, they were interested in what I was eating to make myself look the way I did. Especially the women, especially the thin women.
Once, there was a mother and daughter in the aisle where I was shopping. The girl was trying to get her mom to buy certain pasta sauces. I reached for our usual, a four-cheese blend - just after the girl had requested it. The mom said, pointedly looking right at me "I'm not buying anything that says FOUR-CHEESE!" I just walked away but figure after I was out of earshot, the mom used my appearance as an example of why one did not want to eat four-cheese pasta sauce. Lesson learned.
What's really funny is the way I now buy all this healthy stuff and am so proud to have it in my cart and put it on the belt at the cash register. LOL! But buying tampons and chocolate together - often by themselves - I figure the cashier and women behind me must get a chuckle out of that.
On the whole, I'm more relaxed about the grocery-cart judging than I used to be. It's usually a pretty good mix these days anyway. You'll find frozen pizza but you'll also find fresh fruit and skim milk; low-fat cheese and nonfat yogurt but there will probably be a bag of fries as well. Nothing in there will kill me unless I eat it every day, all day. Moderation is the key, right?
So if you find yourself morphing into the Judge Judy of the grocery store, think about this: Maybe all those nachos and beer are for a party! Maybe the waif with the "sensible" cart full of greenery is anorexic. And yep, maybe the mom with the cartload of donuts and pop has a problem, too. But don't be disgusted by her; you'd feel sorry for the anorexic woman, right? Feel just as sympathetic for someone who suffers from food addiction.
If there's one thing I've learned throughout this journey is don't jump to conclusions. You never know what other people's stories are. Everyone has their own pain and their own journey.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
The Journey
On this Easter Sunday I am feeling nostalgic, looking back on what I see as my own journey to resurrection.
Recently I was reminded of a poem I hadn't read for years by Pulitzer Prize winner Mary Oliver called The Journey . Mary was interviewed in last month's edition of O Magazine by Maria Shriver. Yes, I often draw inspiration from Oprah Winfrey. If that makes some people roll their eyes, well ok.
In the poem, she talks about an epiphany and taking steps to save "the only life you could save" - your own. The journey of self-exploration and personal growth; it can apply to many things, but it makes me think of how far I've come, what I've done and how much there is left to do. Because the journey is never finished. It continues on and on.
So much parallel in that poem to the weight-loss journey, surgical or not. Doesn't everyone want to give you free advice? Telling you no, you could do it better this way or that. My sister's husband's cousin lost weight doing it this way. You shouldn't eat this or that. Oh, avoid doing this or that at all costs! At some point you have to tune all that out and focus on YOU. What you want. What you need. Do what's right for you. Eventually, the "stars" of truth will "burn through the sheets of clouds" and you will "slowly recognize" your own voice coming through. Listen to you.
I love that on the tribute page I linked to above, there is an image of a woman walking alone on a beach at sunset. She is a shadow. Not a mere shadow of herself but powerful and fearless in her solitude, even though darkness is coming - as it always does. She's continuing to walk, to journey. No successful journey is without speed bumps. As you face the darkness, the trick is knowing the sun will rise tomorrow.
So thank you, Mary Oliver, for giving me a great gift this Easter. I haven't read a lot of poetry since college - where I learned to analyze it ad nauseum - but re-reading this treasure makes me want to revisit the sonnets, Lord Byron and even Walt Whitman. Journey, reflection and resurrection of the spirit. Happy Easter, indeed.
Recently I was reminded of a poem I hadn't read for years by Pulitzer Prize winner Mary Oliver called The Journey . Mary was interviewed in last month's edition of O Magazine by Maria Shriver. Yes, I often draw inspiration from Oprah Winfrey. If that makes some people roll their eyes, well ok.
In the poem, she talks about an epiphany and taking steps to save "the only life you could save" - your own. The journey of self-exploration and personal growth; it can apply to many things, but it makes me think of how far I've come, what I've done and how much there is left to do. Because the journey is never finished. It continues on and on.
So much parallel in that poem to the weight-loss journey, surgical or not. Doesn't everyone want to give you free advice? Telling you no, you could do it better this way or that. My sister's husband's cousin lost weight doing it this way. You shouldn't eat this or that. Oh, avoid doing this or that at all costs! At some point you have to tune all that out and focus on YOU. What you want. What you need. Do what's right for you. Eventually, the "stars" of truth will "burn through the sheets of clouds" and you will "slowly recognize" your own voice coming through. Listen to you.
I love that on the tribute page I linked to above, there is an image of a woman walking alone on a beach at sunset. She is a shadow. Not a mere shadow of herself but powerful and fearless in her solitude, even though darkness is coming - as it always does. She's continuing to walk, to journey. No successful journey is without speed bumps. As you face the darkness, the trick is knowing the sun will rise tomorrow.
So thank you, Mary Oliver, for giving me a great gift this Easter. I haven't read a lot of poetry since college - where I learned to analyze it ad nauseum - but re-reading this treasure makes me want to revisit the sonnets, Lord Byron and even Walt Whitman. Journey, reflection and resurrection of the spirit. Happy Easter, indeed.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Sweet thing
I know in the weight-loss-surgery world, sugar is a four-letter word. If we listened to some folks out there, you should avoid it - forever - at all costs. Well, I have a little secret to tell you. *whispering* That's not entirely/exactly true for everyone.
In the first stages post-op, it definitely is important to cut out sugar as much as possible. Everyone's tolerance level is different, but for the most part, sugar=bad. We do not want to dump. No. And I absolutely avoided sugar like the plague at first. Some patients will have trouble with sugar indefinitely; some have trouble with sugar substitutes - indefinitely. But for most of us, the return to "normal" eating brings sugar along with it.
This all goes back to moderation. Time and time again, I've stated that I eat pretty much anything and everything, just not all at once and not every day. You have to change your brain or bariatric surgery will not work long-term. No matter that I simply can't physically sit down and eat 4 or 5 doughnuts anymore, I just don't want to. It's bad for me and I don't want to do that to myself.
But do I occasionally have a doughnut, a piece of chocolate or a slice of cake? Sure I do! If I'm out to dinner on the weekend, having a meal on a holiday or someone brings something into the office - then yeah, I will indulge a tiny bit.
I pick my battles, though. I won't drink my sugar. I see no point in drinking sugar. Really, I'd rather eat it! And if I can go sugar-free, I will. For example: I spend more money on Russell Stover's SF chocolate during psycho-cycle time; eat only SF yogurt, jam, maple syrup, low-sugar oatmeal packets and Splenda in my cereal; and will have SF ice cream or frozen yogurt if I can get it. Anything with sugar is limited in quantity and preferably after a meal, when I have something in my stomach. Sugar on an empty pouch can set it to rumbling. Too much sugar on a full pouch can do the same thing. It's a balance, just like any other kind of eating.
I sill am considered a diabetic though it is controlled by my diet and I require no medication for it now. So I am aware that I need to be vigilant. And I am. Much more so now than I was pre-op, when I really was on 1000mg of Metformin every day for my diabetes.
Reading labels is so important. For example, granola - which sounds healthy and all - is loaded with sugar. Honey Bunches of Oats cereal - which sounds like it would be full of sugar - is a great choice. 150 calories with 6 grams of sugar. Sign me up. I try to keep things I eat daily under 10 grams of sugar per serving. Again, it's a BALANCE. I eat well the majority of the time so when I have the doughnut at the office once every other week or something, I don't feel guilty about it. At all.
Check out this link.for some understanding of the sugar that might be hidden in things that sound healthy.
And no, I don't worry about eating artificial sugar. I'm not eating the stuff by the pound and I'm just not concerned. If you are, that's ok - eat what you like.
For me, the bottom line is that I'm not willing to live totally without sugar. There are some who will tell you that you should never eat sugar again. Well, that's bullshit. Unless there is a physical reason that it bothers you in particular, then yes - you can. I know I'm like beating a dead horse here but THERE ARE NO BAD FOODS. Anything and everything can be enjoyed in moderation as long as you can physically tolerate it post-op.
And now, let's enjoy a little "Sweet Thing" shall we? ;-)
In the first stages post-op, it definitely is important to cut out sugar as much as possible. Everyone's tolerance level is different, but for the most part, sugar=bad. We do not want to dump. No. And I absolutely avoided sugar like the plague at first. Some patients will have trouble with sugar indefinitely; some have trouble with sugar substitutes - indefinitely. But for most of us, the return to "normal" eating brings sugar along with it.
This all goes back to moderation. Time and time again, I've stated that I eat pretty much anything and everything, just not all at once and not every day. You have to change your brain or bariatric surgery will not work long-term. No matter that I simply can't physically sit down and eat 4 or 5 doughnuts anymore, I just don't want to. It's bad for me and I don't want to do that to myself.
But do I occasionally have a doughnut, a piece of chocolate or a slice of cake? Sure I do! If I'm out to dinner on the weekend, having a meal on a holiday or someone brings something into the office - then yeah, I will indulge a tiny bit.
I pick my battles, though. I won't drink my sugar. I see no point in drinking sugar. Really, I'd rather eat it! And if I can go sugar-free, I will. For example: I spend more money on Russell Stover's SF chocolate during psycho-cycle time; eat only SF yogurt, jam, maple syrup, low-sugar oatmeal packets and Splenda in my cereal; and will have SF ice cream or frozen yogurt if I can get it. Anything with sugar is limited in quantity and preferably after a meal, when I have something in my stomach. Sugar on an empty pouch can set it to rumbling. Too much sugar on a full pouch can do the same thing. It's a balance, just like any other kind of eating.
I sill am considered a diabetic though it is controlled by my diet and I require no medication for it now. So I am aware that I need to be vigilant. And I am. Much more so now than I was pre-op, when I really was on 1000mg of Metformin every day for my diabetes.
Reading labels is so important. For example, granola - which sounds healthy and all - is loaded with sugar. Honey Bunches of Oats cereal - which sounds like it would be full of sugar - is a great choice. 150 calories with 6 grams of sugar. Sign me up. I try to keep things I eat daily under 10 grams of sugar per serving. Again, it's a BALANCE. I eat well the majority of the time so when I have the doughnut at the office once every other week or something, I don't feel guilty about it. At all.
Check out this link.for some understanding of the sugar that might be hidden in things that sound healthy.
And no, I don't worry about eating artificial sugar. I'm not eating the stuff by the pound and I'm just not concerned. If you are, that's ok - eat what you like.
For me, the bottom line is that I'm not willing to live totally without sugar. There are some who will tell you that you should never eat sugar again. Well, that's bullshit. Unless there is a physical reason that it bothers you in particular, then yes - you can. I know I'm like beating a dead horse here but THERE ARE NO BAD FOODS. Anything and everything can be enjoyed in moderation as long as you can physically tolerate it post-op.
And now, let's enjoy a little "Sweet Thing" shall we? ;-)
Sunday, April 17, 2011
On my own
This will be short.
Can we please dispense with this notion that people who lose weight somehow don't do it on their own? I've talked about this subject before, but I keep getting agitated by ads on tv with people who bemoan that they "couldn't do it on their own" so they needed the help of some program or the other. This morning, the commercial I saw was for a very popular program in Canada called Herbal Magic. I know part of this is just advertisers hoping to sell a product by belittling people's efforts and should be ignored, but it settles into the general public's psyche and a cycle of "I can't do it" is born. This is a problem.
Of course, most often that phrase is associated with those of us who have had a bariatric procedure of some sort. I actually did do this on my own. The support of people around me was invaluable, the knowledge of my surgeon unquestionable, but guess whose ass is on the treadmill? Mine. Guess who makes the choices that have kept me in Maintenance Land since October? Me. Allll me. I don't even give my surgeon all the credit; he didn't save me. He provided me with the tool - literally, the tool - that enabled me to make the changes I needed. I went home and did the work, not him.
It's very important to own your power. Take credit for what you've achieved and don't let anyone tell you differently. Having the confidence to continue on your journey - whether you're still losing or are in Maintenance Land - is crucial. Get through every day knowing you can do it because you already are! You are doing it right now, this minute!
Just taking the initiative to admit you have a problem is earth shattering enough to change your life. And you did that. No one else. It doesn't matter if you accept help from Herbal Magic, Sparkpeople or a bariatric surgeon. We all do it on our own. Your power, your belief in yourself, will save you. I know it to be true.
Can we please dispense with this notion that people who lose weight somehow don't do it on their own? I've talked about this subject before, but I keep getting agitated by ads on tv with people who bemoan that they "couldn't do it on their own" so they needed the help of some program or the other. This morning, the commercial I saw was for a very popular program in Canada called Herbal Magic. I know part of this is just advertisers hoping to sell a product by belittling people's efforts and should be ignored, but it settles into the general public's psyche and a cycle of "I can't do it" is born. This is a problem.
Of course, most often that phrase is associated with those of us who have had a bariatric procedure of some sort. I actually did do this on my own. The support of people around me was invaluable, the knowledge of my surgeon unquestionable, but guess whose ass is on the treadmill? Mine. Guess who makes the choices that have kept me in Maintenance Land since October? Me. Allll me. I don't even give my surgeon all the credit; he didn't save me. He provided me with the tool - literally, the tool - that enabled me to make the changes I needed. I went home and did the work, not him.
It's very important to own your power. Take credit for what you've achieved and don't let anyone tell you differently. Having the confidence to continue on your journey - whether you're still losing or are in Maintenance Land - is crucial. Get through every day knowing you can do it because you already are! You are doing it right now, this minute!
Just taking the initiative to admit you have a problem is earth shattering enough to change your life. And you did that. No one else. It doesn't matter if you accept help from Herbal Magic, Sparkpeople or a bariatric surgeon. We all do it on our own. Your power, your belief in yourself, will save you. I know it to be true.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Be your own friend
It's not rocket science: The better you treat yourself, the happier and healthier you are. And it doesn't take much get the feeling back that maybe you deserve that little extra sumpin' sumpin' to push through to your goals, whatever they may be.
We tell ourselves things that we would never say to another person because well, we wouldn't want to be rude or hurt his or her feelings! Why act any differently towards yourself? Treat yourself with at least as much respect and TLC as you would your family and friends - or a stranger, even!
Rituals are big with me. I need things on my schedule that make me happy, whether it's putting on makeup every morning, having an after-lunch, sugar-free piece of chocoate, or taking a few minutes to pet my cats when I get home at night. Putting on lip gloss in the morning makes me feel pretty and alive. I know that might sound weird, but it works for me. And that feeling makes me want to take care of myself in other ways throughout the day.
I've been working on stress relievers since my job is such hell right now and I feel myself slipping back into old habits occasionally. Treating myself - being good to myself - helps out a lot. I might see a movie in an actual theatre (remember those? that's where people went before downloading and pay-per-view), or go to bed early with my Kobo (Hunger Games Trilogy=awesomeness). Both improve my mood and remind me to...wait for it...take care of myself in other ways.
Those "other ways" can be whatever you decide. For me (and a lot of people reading this), it's either weight loss or weight maintenance. Staying in shape is all about doing the work required to keep yourself there. And you have to give a shit about yourself in order to give a shit about doing the work.
Like I said, it's not rocket science.
So tomorrow, start making a conscious effort to be your own friend. What would your best friend do or say to put you in a good mood? What can you do - the little things - for yourself today? You will feel better, smile more and I bet you'll be more apt to put down the second cupcake and hit the gym.
We tell ourselves things that we would never say to another person because well, we wouldn't want to be rude or hurt his or her feelings! Why act any differently towards yourself? Treat yourself with at least as much respect and TLC as you would your family and friends - or a stranger, even!
Rituals are big with me. I need things on my schedule that make me happy, whether it's putting on makeup every morning, having an after-lunch, sugar-free piece of chocoate, or taking a few minutes to pet my cats when I get home at night. Putting on lip gloss in the morning makes me feel pretty and alive. I know that might sound weird, but it works for me. And that feeling makes me want to take care of myself in other ways throughout the day.
I've been working on stress relievers since my job is such hell right now and I feel myself slipping back into old habits occasionally. Treating myself - being good to myself - helps out a lot. I might see a movie in an actual theatre (remember those? that's where people went before downloading and pay-per-view), or go to bed early with my Kobo (Hunger Games Trilogy=awesomeness). Both improve my mood and remind me to...wait for it...take care of myself in other ways.
Those "other ways" can be whatever you decide. For me (and a lot of people reading this), it's either weight loss or weight maintenance. Staying in shape is all about doing the work required to keep yourself there. And you have to give a shit about yourself in order to give a shit about doing the work.
Like I said, it's not rocket science.
So tomorrow, start making a conscious effort to be your own friend. What would your best friend do or say to put you in a good mood? What can you do - the little things - for yourself today? You will feel better, smile more and I bet you'll be more apt to put down the second cupcake and hit the gym.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
What makes a reward?
Let's talk about rewards this morning. What exactly do you deserve? Think about that for a moment.
On this past Tuesday's episode of The Biggest Loser, trainer Jillian Michaels confronted contestant - and Olympic gold medalist - Rulon Gardner over video footage from his room in which he is seen eating things that could sabotage his weight loss. Chips, bags of candy, fast food. Jillian is known for her take-no-prisoners approach so I'm sure Rulon thought he was in for a flogging. Not so much. She calmly went to him to discuss in private why he felt the need to overindulge when his clear purpose for being at the ranch is to lose weight.
Rulon explained his view that he thought he deserved it. He was working hard, losing a ton of weight (well over 100 pounds so far) and figured he could afford to reward himself with a few of his favorite foods. To his credit, he was very honest and forthright about it.
This struck a chord with me big time. I am guilty of thinking this way occasionally. I've lost 250 pounds...I *deserve* to have a bag of chips. I've worked hard and deserve to reward myself. But, as Jillian pointed out, what do you think you deserve?
We deserve to be healthy and live longer. We deserve to be proud of ourselves every day for the choices we make.
Jillian discussed with Rulon the theory that people sometimes have an all-or-nothing approach to food. If you start eliminating foods, it only leads to deprivation and binging when you do succumb to the temptation. Then guilt lingers, you feel like a failure and turn to even more bad choices in an attempt to console yourself. And the cycle goes on and on. Because some foods feel forbidden, we tend to think of them as rewards. Food should never be used in this way. As a society, food often surrounds celebratory events. And that's fine: But the type of food and the amount of it are extremely important. We need to make the celebration about people, not a double-chocolate layer cake.
I have stated many times in the past that I don't believe in bad food. An eating plan that directs you to eliminate any food - whether it's a Snicker's bar or homemade bread - gives me reason to pause. Nothing is totally off limits but of course a clear head and moderation must prevail or you will end up right back where you started and all your hard work will be lost. Do I struggle with the balance? Every single frickin' day! I am guilty of backsliding just like anyone else.
"I ate one piece of pizza, so I blew it and might as well have five pieces." Or maybe you blow one meal and it ruins the whole day for you. Try not to get caught up in that mentality. Even if you have the five pieces, when it's over stop for a second. Think about what just happened. Can you change it? No. Can you move on and make a better choice at the next meal? Sure. You're in control. Even when you screw up, how you deal with it is up to you. Still in control.
Jillian explained that she wasn't telling Rulon to stop eating certain things, just wanted him and the other contestants to try to think about food in a different way since when they leave the ranch, they will deal with choices like this more often, every day. Eat one burger, not three. We all know this stuff - I've blogged about it many times - but it's harder to put into practice. It's not easy, but if you succeed even 80% of the time, then you're ok.
Food isn't a reward in and of itself. Good health is, though. Let's all try to remember that when reaching for the third doughnut of the week at work. I will if you will.
On this past Tuesday's episode of The Biggest Loser, trainer Jillian Michaels confronted contestant - and Olympic gold medalist - Rulon Gardner over video footage from his room in which he is seen eating things that could sabotage his weight loss. Chips, bags of candy, fast food. Jillian is known for her take-no-prisoners approach so I'm sure Rulon thought he was in for a flogging. Not so much. She calmly went to him to discuss in private why he felt the need to overindulge when his clear purpose for being at the ranch is to lose weight.
Rulon explained his view that he thought he deserved it. He was working hard, losing a ton of weight (well over 100 pounds so far) and figured he could afford to reward himself with a few of his favorite foods. To his credit, he was very honest and forthright about it.
This struck a chord with me big time. I am guilty of thinking this way occasionally. I've lost 250 pounds...I *deserve* to have a bag of chips. I've worked hard and deserve to reward myself. But, as Jillian pointed out, what do you think you deserve?
We deserve to be healthy and live longer. We deserve to be proud of ourselves every day for the choices we make.
Jillian discussed with Rulon the theory that people sometimes have an all-or-nothing approach to food. If you start eliminating foods, it only leads to deprivation and binging when you do succumb to the temptation. Then guilt lingers, you feel like a failure and turn to even more bad choices in an attempt to console yourself. And the cycle goes on and on. Because some foods feel forbidden, we tend to think of them as rewards. Food should never be used in this way. As a society, food often surrounds celebratory events. And that's fine: But the type of food and the amount of it are extremely important. We need to make the celebration about people, not a double-chocolate layer cake.
I have stated many times in the past that I don't believe in bad food. An eating plan that directs you to eliminate any food - whether it's a Snicker's bar or homemade bread - gives me reason to pause. Nothing is totally off limits but of course a clear head and moderation must prevail or you will end up right back where you started and all your hard work will be lost. Do I struggle with the balance? Every single frickin' day! I am guilty of backsliding just like anyone else.
"I ate one piece of pizza, so I blew it and might as well have five pieces." Or maybe you blow one meal and it ruins the whole day for you. Try not to get caught up in that mentality. Even if you have the five pieces, when it's over stop for a second. Think about what just happened. Can you change it? No. Can you move on and make a better choice at the next meal? Sure. You're in control. Even when you screw up, how you deal with it is up to you. Still in control.
Jillian explained that she wasn't telling Rulon to stop eating certain things, just wanted him and the other contestants to try to think about food in a different way since when they leave the ranch, they will deal with choices like this more often, every day. Eat one burger, not three. We all know this stuff - I've blogged about it many times - but it's harder to put into practice. It's not easy, but if you succeed even 80% of the time, then you're ok.
Food isn't a reward in and of itself. Good health is, though. Let's all try to remember that when reaching for the third doughnut of the week at work. I will if you will.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Dr. Oz talks Lap-Bands
On Monday, Dr. Oz's show topic was on bariatric surgery, the gastric lap-band procedure specifically. Lap-bands are extremely popular. According to figures on the show, there were 200,000 bariatric procedures performed in the U.S. last year and half of them were lap-band placements.
The lap-band has made big headlines recently because the FDA has lowered the recommended BMI requirement from 40 to 30, plus at least one co-morbidity such as high blood pressure or diabetes. To put that into perspective, the average American woman who is 5'4" tall would only have to weigh 178 pounds now in order to be considered a candidate for surgery. Previously, she would've had to weigh 230 pounds. So the point of Dr. Oz's show was: Should people who are only 30 pounds overweight be having surgery to lose it?
There were two women in the audience, both about 50 pounds overweight, who said they were considering the surgery. They wouldn't have been candidates before the new recommended guidelines. Dr. Oz featured two lap-band patients - one 6 months out and one 6 years out - to give some perspective on life post-op.
This is the typical diet of the patient who was six months out, or so she said (note my sarcasm - click to enlarge):
Five spoonfuls of yogurt; 1 cup of broth; 4 spoonfuls of pudding.
Ladies & gentlemen, I call bullshit. I call bullshit allll day long. No freakin' way that is the diet of someone who is six months post-op. If it is, then she has a real problem either physically, emotionally or both. That's the diet of someone who is SIX DAYS post-op, perhaps, but not six months. Nuh-uh.
When I was six months out in January 2010, I was talking about sugar-free recipes I'd tried and the occasional SF treats I allowed myself. I wasn't eating six spoonfuls of yogurt at breakfast - I was having one egg on a whole-wheat wrap with a slice of cheese. A couple hours later I'd eat a banana, and so on. It's not that I was anything special, either. The bariatric blogosphere is buzzing about this woman's presentation of what she eats every day. Not many people buy/understand it.
The woman who was six years out explained that she was able to eat a bit more than the other lady (ya think?). Still, her menu wasn't much better - though they did show it very quickly and you really couldn't tell exactly what she was eating. One thing was obvious was the tiny portion sizes. A little too tiny, really.
Both women said they'd do the surgery over again, no question. Dr. Oz was surprised by this and asked the women who were considering the surgery: "Doesn't this scare you?" He almost seemed to be trying to scare them. Then he backpedaled and conceded that he "gets" both sides of the surgery argument and it can be effective. But he also pointed out that it doesn't cure the emotions behind why a person overeats. Fair enough and very, very true. Surgery isn't a magic bullet that makes everything better and people really need to be aware of that.
Case in point, the woman who was six years post-op. When asked about the one thing she wasn't prepared for involving the surgery, she said "the effort" you must put into losing the weight. Okaaaayyyy....again, this is either complete bullshit or her pre-op medical team didn't do its job by informing her the way it should have.
But she did say another thing that struck me as very wise: Oftentimes, surgery is seen as a weakness. Another thing of "Why can't you do this on your own?" She said there was strength in admitting your weakness against food addiction and reaching out a hand for help in conquering it. I believe this completely although she did use the dreaded phrase "on your own". Which conveys a magic wand, in my opinion - that somehow, bariatric patients aren't losing weigh 'on their own'. And again, I call bullshit.
While it's a good thing to see bariatric procedures discussed as a viable option for weight loss in the mainstream media at all, there is still a long way to go in terms of education and attitude. I feel sorry for anyone considering surgery and watched this show thinking: 'OMG...that's how I'm going to have to eat??' I'm sure it scared some folks right into the McDonald's drive-thru and away from something that could save their lives. I find that very sad. Not a total thumbs-down, but really - Dr. Oz could've done a lot better.
If you missed it and you're interested in watching, here are some links. They're in a weird order on the site, so these will make your life a little easier:
Are you a candidate for weight-loss surgery: Parts ONE, TWO and THREE.
Life After Lap-Band Surgery: Parts ONE and TWO.
The lap-band has made big headlines recently because the FDA has lowered the recommended BMI requirement from 40 to 30, plus at least one co-morbidity such as high blood pressure or diabetes. To put that into perspective, the average American woman who is 5'4" tall would only have to weigh 178 pounds now in order to be considered a candidate for surgery. Previously, she would've had to weigh 230 pounds. So the point of Dr. Oz's show was: Should people who are only 30 pounds overweight be having surgery to lose it?
There were two women in the audience, both about 50 pounds overweight, who said they were considering the surgery. They wouldn't have been candidates before the new recommended guidelines. Dr. Oz featured two lap-band patients - one 6 months out and one 6 years out - to give some perspective on life post-op.
This is the typical diet of the patient who was six months out, or so she said (note my sarcasm - click to enlarge):
Five spoonfuls of yogurt; 1 cup of broth; 4 spoonfuls of pudding.
Ladies & gentlemen, I call bullshit. I call bullshit allll day long. No freakin' way that is the diet of someone who is six months post-op. If it is, then she has a real problem either physically, emotionally or both. That's the diet of someone who is SIX DAYS post-op, perhaps, but not six months. Nuh-uh.
When I was six months out in January 2010, I was talking about sugar-free recipes I'd tried and the occasional SF treats I allowed myself. I wasn't eating six spoonfuls of yogurt at breakfast - I was having one egg on a whole-wheat wrap with a slice of cheese. A couple hours later I'd eat a banana, and so on. It's not that I was anything special, either. The bariatric blogosphere is buzzing about this woman's presentation of what she eats every day. Not many people buy/understand it.
The woman who was six years out explained that she was able to eat a bit more than the other lady (ya think?). Still, her menu wasn't much better - though they did show it very quickly and you really couldn't tell exactly what she was eating. One thing was obvious was the tiny portion sizes. A little too tiny, really.
Both women said they'd do the surgery over again, no question. Dr. Oz was surprised by this and asked the women who were considering the surgery: "Doesn't this scare you?" He almost seemed to be trying to scare them. Then he backpedaled and conceded that he "gets" both sides of the surgery argument and it can be effective. But he also pointed out that it doesn't cure the emotions behind why a person overeats. Fair enough and very, very true. Surgery isn't a magic bullet that makes everything better and people really need to be aware of that.
Case in point, the woman who was six years post-op. When asked about the one thing she wasn't prepared for involving the surgery, she said "the effort" you must put into losing the weight. Okaaaayyyy....again, this is either complete bullshit or her pre-op medical team didn't do its job by informing her the way it should have.
But she did say another thing that struck me as very wise: Oftentimes, surgery is seen as a weakness. Another thing of "Why can't you do this on your own?" She said there was strength in admitting your weakness against food addiction and reaching out a hand for help in conquering it. I believe this completely although she did use the dreaded phrase "on your own". Which conveys a magic wand, in my opinion - that somehow, bariatric patients aren't losing weigh 'on their own'. And again, I call bullshit.
While it's a good thing to see bariatric procedures discussed as a viable option for weight loss in the mainstream media at all, there is still a long way to go in terms of education and attitude. I feel sorry for anyone considering surgery and watched this show thinking: 'OMG...that's how I'm going to have to eat??' I'm sure it scared some folks right into the McDonald's drive-thru and away from something that could save their lives. I find that very sad. Not a total thumbs-down, but really - Dr. Oz could've done a lot better.
If you missed it and you're interested in watching, here are some links. They're in a weird order on the site, so these will make your life a little easier:
Are you a candidate for weight-loss surgery: Parts ONE, TWO and THREE.
Life After Lap-Band Surgery: Parts ONE and TWO.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Amish chic
So Erich and I have booked the 10th anniversary trip to the Dominican Republic which of course means I'll have to get a swimsuit. Oy.
Now I understand that swimsuit shopping is traditionally akin to a root canal procedure for most women but I just lost 250 pounds and it should be an exciting experience for me. Not so much. I do look like a shar-pei puppy now, so the look I'm going for would be....Amish-chic, I suppose.
I got a new suit last summer that is now, of course, too big for me and wasn't suitable in the first place. My Amish-chic suit would include 3/4-length sleeves, full support/coverage up top and knee-length inseams. Such things are available if you're willing to take out a second mortgage on your house or sell a kidney or something. Over $100 for a swimsuit is a bit much, in my opinion.
There's this little number, which is just ok. It does fit what I want but I dunno. Maybe I'm wrong about what I want!
This one is more "swimsuit-like" and price-friendly - desirable - but noticeably less coverage on top. The skin on my upper arms could have its own area code but honestly, I'm more concerned about the thighs. Hm.
A friend directed me to Land's End and I did find some board shorts there that I like quite a bit.
The sizing confuses me somewhat. Evidently, a size 42 is equal to a 16. The second choice above says it's a size 34 or "girls size 16". What the hell does that mean? I wonder if there's a language barrier of some sort and the ad means to say "woman's" size 16; "girls" to me means child. I may have to send the seller a question on that one. I tried a size 38 on in a store over the weekend (supposedly equivalent to size 14 - again, confusing) and it fit ok.
Again, oy.
I was never much concerned with myself in a swimsuit at 444 pounds. Not like I am now. That might sound odd but it's true. Honestly, parts of my body looked better to me when it was filled in.
I'm really excited for the trip to the Dominican, though! We're going to the Grand Paradise Samana on the northeast coast of the island. This is another thing I wouldn't have been able to do pre-op because: I'd need two seats on the plane so it would cost too much. The heat would've been too oppressive for me and I wouldn't have had the energy, stamina or desire to do any activities once I got there so what would've been the point? Now I want to hike, swim, bike, go horseback riding and possibly zipling. We have to see what's available for us, but I want to do as much as we can afford.
Sometimes I get mixed feelings thinking about the trip, though. There's a weird sense that it's something I don't deserve or shouldn't attempt. The pre-op part of my brain, the part that sent signals for almost 40 years telling me not to do this or that because either I couldn't physically or I'd embarrass myself trying - that's the part that's holding me back from truly embracing the anticipation of this trip. Every now and then I have to stop myself and remember there's nothing I can't - or shouldn't - do now. Including wearing a swimsuit, right? Right.
Sweeping on.
You might notice a new badge on the left. I've created a Sweeping Cindy Facebook page, like I talked about about before. C'mon, don't you like me??
Now I understand that swimsuit shopping is traditionally akin to a root canal procedure for most women but I just lost 250 pounds and it should be an exciting experience for me. Not so much. I do look like a shar-pei puppy now, so the look I'm going for would be....Amish-chic, I suppose.
I got a new suit last summer that is now, of course, too big for me and wasn't suitable in the first place. My Amish-chic suit would include 3/4-length sleeves, full support/coverage up top and knee-length inseams. Such things are available if you're willing to take out a second mortgage on your house or sell a kidney or something. Over $100 for a swimsuit is a bit much, in my opinion.
There's this little number, which is just ok. It does fit what I want but I dunno. Maybe I'm wrong about what I want!
This one is more "swimsuit-like" and price-friendly - desirable - but noticeably less coverage on top. The skin on my upper arms could have its own area code but honestly, I'm more concerned about the thighs. Hm.
A friend directed me to Land's End and I did find some board shorts there that I like quite a bit.
The sizing confuses me somewhat. Evidently, a size 42 is equal to a 16. The second choice above says it's a size 34 or "girls size 16". What the hell does that mean? I wonder if there's a language barrier of some sort and the ad means to say "woman's" size 16; "girls" to me means child. I may have to send the seller a question on that one. I tried a size 38 on in a store over the weekend (supposedly equivalent to size 14 - again, confusing) and it fit ok.
Again, oy.
I was never much concerned with myself in a swimsuit at 444 pounds. Not like I am now. That might sound odd but it's true. Honestly, parts of my body looked better to me when it was filled in.
I'm really excited for the trip to the Dominican, though! We're going to the Grand Paradise Samana on the northeast coast of the island. This is another thing I wouldn't have been able to do pre-op because: I'd need two seats on the plane so it would cost too much. The heat would've been too oppressive for me and I wouldn't have had the energy, stamina or desire to do any activities once I got there so what would've been the point? Now I want to hike, swim, bike, go horseback riding and possibly zipling. We have to see what's available for us, but I want to do as much as we can afford.
Sometimes I get mixed feelings thinking about the trip, though. There's a weird sense that it's something I don't deserve or shouldn't attempt. The pre-op part of my brain, the part that sent signals for almost 40 years telling me not to do this or that because either I couldn't physically or I'd embarrass myself trying - that's the part that's holding me back from truly embracing the anticipation of this trip. Every now and then I have to stop myself and remember there's nothing I can't - or shouldn't - do now. Including wearing a swimsuit, right? Right.
Sweeping on.
You might notice a new badge on the left. I've created a Sweeping Cindy Facebook page, like I talked about about before. C'mon, don't you like me??
Friday, March 25, 2011
Reality check
This has not been the best of weeks for me so I decided to do one of my gratitude entries tonight.
Tonight, I am grateful for:
My husband. He is giving me the best anniversary gift any woman could ever ask for - a week away in paradise alone with him. I say that's a wonderful gift because I'm truly in love with him and WANT to be alone with him for a week! Erich works nights; I work days. We see each other on the weekends, although we do talk on the phone each night before I go to sleep. So time together is precious. Often, we are not together on our anniversary date and must celebrate on weekends. This year, on May 26, we will be together on a beach in the Dominican Republic. When nothing else seems to be going right in the world, I know above all things that he loves me and sees something in me that brings light to his face when our eyes meet. This is at times enough to keep me from falling apart, more often than I care to admit.
My health. I had a CAT scan on Wednesday and the results came up clear; my kidneys seem to be ok. No growth, no stones. I've felt better for about a week now, so I figured the stone was gone. The growth thing had me worried, though. I admit I've been stress eating this week and haven't hit the gym once. Not good. I'll have to get back on the horse next week, when psycho-cycle dies down.
Music. Thursday evening on my way home from work, I was thinking about some things and was feeling a little overwhelmed. Then this came on the radio. Perfect timing, like divine intervention. Made me drive in circles an extra few mins. just to hear the whole song. I'm telling you, there is nothing in this world that can bug you when you listen to the guitar solo in 'Freebird'. Nothing. Your mind goes blank and you crank up the sound and just...are. If you don't buy that, screw you. You're insane. You are WRONG. "Music saves the soul" - Kris Bell. Doesn't have to be 'Freebird' for you, but music will lift you up. It just does.
Friends. I lost a dear friend this week. It was a huge shock and made me think that you better hug the ones you love because you never know what they are going through or when you'll see them again. Never take it for granted. I go to Niagara Falls (one of my favorite places!) tomorrow to get together with some of my nearest and dearest fellow humans. I can't wait to see them and hug their necks. Bo Bice has brought so many amazing people into Erich's and my lives. I am so grateful to Bo just because of this if nothing else.
Kitty cats. Every morning, I wake up to these two little faces.
There really isn't much I wouldn't do for them. I'm convinced they are on earth to remind me not to sweat the small stuff. I mean, they could give a rat's ass about much except food, water and a clean place to crap. That's all there is, right? A few toys for amusement. A stroke every now and then. What else is there?
Laughter. Work is not a happy place in theory but at least I know when I get there, I will be amused. Thank goodness I like the people I work with, you know? I'm positive that's why most of us are still there. We like to be around each other every day. That, my friends, is a gift.
So really, not much to bitch about. It's all good. Plus I have tickets to two Bo shows in Michigan in July. SWEET. ;-) I urge all of you to take the time, when life seems to be body slamming you at every turn, to find the gratitude. It's there. I promise.
Tonight, I am grateful for:
My husband. He is giving me the best anniversary gift any woman could ever ask for - a week away in paradise alone with him. I say that's a wonderful gift because I'm truly in love with him and WANT to be alone with him for a week! Erich works nights; I work days. We see each other on the weekends, although we do talk on the phone each night before I go to sleep. So time together is precious. Often, we are not together on our anniversary date and must celebrate on weekends. This year, on May 26, we will be together on a beach in the Dominican Republic. When nothing else seems to be going right in the world, I know above all things that he loves me and sees something in me that brings light to his face when our eyes meet. This is at times enough to keep me from falling apart, more often than I care to admit.
My health. I had a CAT scan on Wednesday and the results came up clear; my kidneys seem to be ok. No growth, no stones. I've felt better for about a week now, so I figured the stone was gone. The growth thing had me worried, though. I admit I've been stress eating this week and haven't hit the gym once. Not good. I'll have to get back on the horse next week, when psycho-cycle dies down.
Music. Thursday evening on my way home from work, I was thinking about some things and was feeling a little overwhelmed. Then this came on the radio. Perfect timing, like divine intervention. Made me drive in circles an extra few mins. just to hear the whole song. I'm telling you, there is nothing in this world that can bug you when you listen to the guitar solo in 'Freebird'. Nothing. Your mind goes blank and you crank up the sound and just...are. If you don't buy that, screw you. You're insane. You are WRONG. "Music saves the soul" - Kris Bell. Doesn't have to be 'Freebird' for you, but music will lift you up. It just does.
Friends. I lost a dear friend this week. It was a huge shock and made me think that you better hug the ones you love because you never know what they are going through or when you'll see them again. Never take it for granted. I go to Niagara Falls (one of my favorite places!) tomorrow to get together with some of my nearest and dearest fellow humans. I can't wait to see them and hug their necks. Bo Bice has brought so many amazing people into Erich's and my lives. I am so grateful to Bo just because of this if nothing else.
Kitty cats. Every morning, I wake up to these two little faces.
There really isn't much I wouldn't do for them. I'm convinced they are on earth to remind me not to sweat the small stuff. I mean, they could give a rat's ass about much except food, water and a clean place to crap. That's all there is, right? A few toys for amusement. A stroke every now and then. What else is there?
Laughter. Work is not a happy place in theory but at least I know when I get there, I will be amused. Thank goodness I like the people I work with, you know? I'm positive that's why most of us are still there. We like to be around each other every day. That, my friends, is a gift.
So really, not much to bitch about. It's all good. Plus I have tickets to two Bo shows in Michigan in July. SWEET. ;-) I urge all of you to take the time, when life seems to be body slamming you at every turn, to find the gratitude. It's there. I promise.
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